Trademark
by thewolfandme
Summary: Felicity is a survivor. She'd fought battles Oliver knew nothing about. Battles she swore Oliver would never know. Eventual Olicity. Warnings for Rape/Non-Con and Torture.
1. Chapter 1

**This story will include adult themes, including rape, torture, and a lot of angst and struggling Olicity. It's gonna be a rough ride, so fair warning from the outset. This is my first published fan fic, so please review. I'm also open to having someone beta for me if anyone is interested.**

 **As usual, all characters, etc. belong to DC and the CW.**

Felicity awoke with a start. The first thing she noticed was a searing pain across her back. Her shirt was gone and her hands were tied to a faucet in front of her. Before she could take in her surroundings, she felt rough hands unzipping her pencil skirt and ripping it to the floor. She was barefoot and standing on hard concrete.

 _I must be in some kind of workshop_ , she thought briefly. Fighting back her panic, she tried to remain calm, but soon the rough hands were back, accompanied by ragged breathing right behind her ear. Her heart began pounding hard against her rib cage as an unknown entity moaned roughly right next to her head. The hands massaged her breasts with bruising force. She cried out, but all that earned her was a brutal tug on her chest and the hands were gone. For a blessed moment she thought he was gone, but then she felt the pain across her back again—a tugging, burning, searing pain.

 _No. This isn't happening. No. Not after everything._ Felicity had been walking to the bus stop in the Glades after dropping off some paperwork at CNRI for Mr. Steele. She had made it two blocks and had seen the bus stop before her memory went blank. Based on the small trickle of blood now clogging her eye, she suspected she'd been blitzed. Why hadn't she taken those self-defense classes her mom had told her about?

At the thought of her mother, she let out a sob. This apparently pleased her attacker because he—it was definitely a he—let out a deep hum. Then the burning on her back doubled, accompanied by something warm and wet running down her now bare legs. She realized this man was cutting her. Deeply, carefully. She jerked against her bonds, but all that earned her was rope burn and a twisted neck as her assailant yanked harshly on her ponytail.

"No." He growled. Felicity froze. She'd never been more terrified in her life. She felt helpless. All she could do was hang over this utility sink, watching her blood slowly drip into the basin as this anonymous monster cut into her back. For hours, he drew meticulous lines into her back and down her hips with an unknown instrument until Felicity felt something that caused bile to rise in her throat.

He was hard. He was hard and rutting against her as he cut. Only seconds after she noticed, he dropped a scalpel into the sink and amidst the clatter, she didn't hear him unzipping his fly. She felt him, though.

She screamed. She thought the pain she'd experienced over the past few hours had been the worst in her life, but this was definitely worse. She sobbed as he relentlessly forced himself into her. He dug his fingers into her new incisions, smearing blood from her back, down onto her stomach and breasts. She felt herself being rend in half, blood trickling down her legs.

As his frantic thrusts increased, she drifted from consciousness until she blacked out completely. In the dark, her pain disappeared.

When she came to, he had left her tied where she was before, covered in blood that was still dripping into the sink. She felt light headed and disoriented, but grateful he has stopped. Apparently her loss of consciousness had abated his interest in her, at least briefly.

But he wasn't far.

She tilted her head towards the ragged breathing to her right. Sprawled across a dirty sofa, still with his pants pulled halfway down, was a man her age. He didn't look evil. Well, to her he did, but he was exceedingly average. Brown hair, tall, with a five o'clock shadow. A nice haircut, expensive jeans now ruined with blood.

Felicity looked closely, memorizing his face as he slept soundly. His slumber strengthened her resolve. She tugged again on her bindings and noticed them give slightly. Hope renewed, she tugged harder, until her wrists were raw, but after her determined work, the ropes finally gave in, fraying and snapping silently.

With her hands freed, she cast about frantically, looking for her clothes. They were nowhere in sight and she knew she had to get out of this disgusting apartment as fast as possible. Wrapping herself in a sheet lying on the bed shoved in the corner, she ran. She wrenched the first door open she found and discovered it led out onto a fire escape. Her legs were shaking violently as she threw herself down the stairs as fast as she could until, on the last flight, she slipped.

Tumbling down the last ten feet, she landed flat on her back. The pain made her vision go black as she struggled to stay conscious.

 _I have to get away. No… Please… Stay awake, Feli-…._

Down the alleyway, a teenager in a red hoodie spun at the sound of a crash. At first in the gloom, he couldn't identify the source of the sound, until he saw her. Her glasses were broken, her face smeared with blood, and her feet bare. He watched her eyes flutter closed as he ran to her. He made eye contact with her for the briefest second before her head rolled limply to the side.

With no regard for how this would look with his prior run-ins with SCPD, he gathered her up. She needed help, but not in the Glades. She obviously didn't belong here with her perfect fingernails and expensive dark rimmed glasses. It took him only a few seconds to locate a car, popping the lock and ripping the ignition wires out. He tapped the wires together, turning the engine over and loaded her into the back seat before gunning it out of the Glades.

Once he reached downtown, he followed the signs to Starling General. Parking the car outside of the emergency room, he set the car alarm off and ran, praying someone would come outside to investigate.


	2. Chapter 2

When Felicity came to, she was attached to several pieces of machinery lying on her stomach, with a bag of blood hanging above her. It's contents released a steady drip into the tube running into her arm. She closed her eyes again and took a mental inventory of herself. She could tell she was still in one piece, kind of. Both her wrists were bandaged and she could feel the pull of stitches on her scalp. She reached up to touch her tender head, but the moment she moved her arm, pain lanced across her back. She whimpered. It was then that she felt the press of bandages wrapped around her abdomen and torso.

A second later she heard the squeak of tennis shoes behind her. Unable to turn to see who had entered her room, she was left to wait until the person came to her. The nurse rounded the bed and let out a deep sigh of relief.

"Oh thank God. You're awake," the nurse said, crouching down in front of Felicity's face.

Felicity took the woman in. She was short and stocky, but with deep brown eyes and brown hair pulled into a pony tail. Her scrubs were teal and her shoes white. But her face was kind and filled with genuine concern. Felicity was so grateful to see someone other than her attacker, she let out a choked sob.

"Where am I?" Felicity whispered in a hoarse, crackling voice.

"Starling General, dear." The nurse said kindly. "You were attacked. Someone brought you here, we don't know who, but you're safe now." After a pause, the nurse added, "In fact, we don't know who you are either. Is there anyone we can call for you?"

"Felicity Smoak."

"Who? Do you have a phone number for her?"

"No. I'm Felicity Smoak." Felicity made a move to push herself up, but the nurse stopped her with a gentle touch on her arm.

"No, dear. Please don't do that. You have more stitches in your back than I've ever seen in my 20 years of nursing. Please don't tear them. I'm Jane, okay? I'm going to call the doctor to tell him you're awake. Everything is going to be okay. The police will want to speak to you. I'll send them in soon."

Felicity grabbed Jane's hand. "Please, no," she pleaded in a whisper.

"Okay, dear. Okay. Would you like me to stay with you while you talk to them?"

Felicity closed her eyes and nodded. The nurse understood and patted her hand. Letting go, Jane stuck her head out of the door and murmured a few words to someone outside. She returned with a prematurely aged man in a cheap suit. He squatted down in front of Felicity's face as Jane took her hand.

"I'm Detective Lance, miss," The officer bit out in his NYPD accented authority. "I've been assigned your case. We have a fair amount of evidence just from the state of your wounds, but no DNA. We can piece together much of what happened without your help, so for now we just need to know who your attacker was," Detective Lance finished gesturing at her back.

"I-I don't know who he was."

"Did you get a look at him?"

"Yes. Yes I did."

When Felicity didn't immediately offer any more information, Jane stroked her hair gently. "Just tell him what you know, dear. I'm right here."

Felicity had never been more grateful for someone in her life than she was for Jane in that moment.

"Tall. Brown hair, short, but not buzzed. Kinda fluffy. Thin jaw. Strong, but not like a judo king. Wealthy."

"Wealthy? How could you tell?"

"Clothes. Expensive," Felicity muttered, her eyes slipping closed. Her back hurt so much.

"Thank you, miss. Thank you. Can you tell me where you were? Someone brought you here, but we don't know if he was your assailant or just a good samaratan."

"The Glades. I was dropping something off at CNRI."

"CNRI? My daughter works there..." Lance trailed off. "What about the man in the red hoodie who brought you here? We caught him on the security camera in the ambulance bay."

"No. No, he saved me. It wasn't him," Felicity said emphatically, eyes fully open now as she tried to push herself up again, but both Detective Lance and Jane gently pushed her down again.

"Okay. It's okay. All I need is your name now." Detective Lance spoke softly to her.

Jane patted her hand again encouragingly and answered for her: "Felicity Smoak. I think that's enough now, Detective. I need to administer her medications and take her vitals. She has a lot of recovering to do."

He looked like he was going to argue for a second, but a withering look from Nurse Jane changes his mind. "Thank you, Miss Smoak. We'll be in touch."

With that, Detective Lance took his leave. Felicity let out the breath she had been holding. The pain was mounting in her back and in her head. She felt like she was about to explode when Jane's face appeared in front of her.

"Breathe, dear. Just breathe. I'll get you your pain medicine, okay?"

Three days later, Felicity opened the door of the taxi in front of her apartment building. While in the hospital, Jane had brought Felicity her things, including her computer since Felicity couldn't think of any friends to call for help. In a few seconds, Felicity had erased all her unaccounted for electronics. She had only had her tablet and her keys with her that night. Her landlord, after hearing about what had happened had called her to tell her that he'd give her a new lock, free of charge. She supposed she ought to feel grateful, but she wasn't feeling much of anything these days.

The key her landlord had promised her was waiting under her welcome mat and she let herself into her apartment. As she switched the deadbolt behind her, she started to sink slowly into an uneasy security. Being home helped a little. An hour later, she was dressed and driving to the hardware store where she bought a contract with a security company, set up the installation for later in the week, and just to give her some peace of mind bought a door alarm that sounded whenever the door opened. That would do until the contractors could add the alarm service.

With that, Felicity Smoak returned to her everyday life. She went to work at Queen Consolidated, came home, ate ramen, painted her nails. She enrolled in therapy, joined a support group, and started a little bit of hactivism on the side, helping domestic violence victims erase their former selves so they would move on like she had.

On the surface, Felicity seemed the same person she was before. Only she knew about the intricate pattern of scars, cut in swirling intentional designs on her back. She never got dressed in front of a mirror anymore, trying to avoid seeing the physical reminders of that horrible night.

But ever determined and resilient, Felicity went on.


	3. Chapter 3

For several years, her life carried on like this. She moved up within Queen Consolidated into a high ranking position in the IT department. Walter Steele began to trust her with delicate matters and Oliver Queen returned and started coming to her with odd requests, but she kept her head down. She honestly enjoyed the challenge, and hoping to keep him coming to her, she didn't raise any objections. Not until one day he and his best friend came to her cubicle.

As Oliver rounded the corner, she looked up and smiled. She had started to grow fond of him. Today he had a flash drive he needed her to break the encryption on. Simple for her. She looked up at him as she took the tiny piece of plastic from Oliver, when over his shoulder she saw him. She would never forget that face. It was transformed by the lack of her blood and the presence of a smile, but it was definitely him.

"Felicity?" Oliver said.

Felicity was horror struck as the man that had so utterly destroyed her sauntered over to Oliver.

"Come on Oliver, let's get out of here."

"Wait a second, Tommy. This is Felicity. She's a friend."

"Oh a friend, eh?" Tommy said as he looked into her cubicle. He froze when he saw her, a malevolent grin creeping across his face. He extended his hand for her to shake, and not wanting to make a scene in front of Oliver she took it.

"Nice to meet you Felicity," he said, his grin firmly in place.

She forced a smile and dropped his hand as quickly as she could.

Oliver noticed the tension. He may have spent five years away, but that didn't mean his people skills were totally horrible. Okay, well they were horrible, but anyone could've seen what was happening. He could see something was wrong. As he and Tommy stood in front of the elevator bay, he asked Tommy if he knew Felicity.

"No, man. But I'd certainly like to," Tommy replied with a wink. "I think I forgot something in her office. I'll meet you downstairs."

Oliver wasn't stupid. He knew Tommy was going back to make a pass at Felicity and something inside him was revolted. Acting on instinct, he followed Tommy as quietly as possible. He saw Felicity in the IT break room, standing over the sink, clutching the sides. She looked incredibly pale, as if she was about the faint or vomit. Maybe both. He saw Tommy approaching the break room door and slid quietly around the corner where he couldn't be seen but could still hear what was said in the small room.

"I never thought I'd see you again," came a voice that had to be Tommy's, but it wasn't a tone he'd ever heard from his best friend before. It was almost predatory.

Oliver heard the faint clack of heels on the floor and then an echoing crash as what he assumed to be a trash can fell over.

"Leave me alone." Felicity sounded terrified.

"Oh, leave you alone? Really? Hmm. I'm not sure I can."

Oliver risked a peak through the window of the door and what he saw revolted him. Felicity was pinned against the far wall, Tommy pressed hard up against her back. He had his head buried in her neck and his hand running up and down her back.

"I can still feel them. Can you?" He grunted into her neck as he pushed his crotch hard against her.

Felicity let out a strangled sound that sounded like a sob. Oliver knew she wasn't enjoying this and while he'd never felt the need to intervene with Tommy before, today he did. He wrenched the door open and called out Tommy's name.

Tommy pushed himself away from Felicity as if he'd been burned. Felicity was breathing heavily, but ran as soon as Tommy's weight was off of her.

Oliver stared at his friend.

"Just thought I'd try. Didn't realize she was yours, man. I guess you picked up jealousy as a character trait on that island."

Oliver couldn't speak. He just followed his friend mutely out of the building trying to understand what he'd just witnessed.

Felicity ran for the bathroom. She just made it into a stall before she puked. She wretched until she was empty and wretched some more. She was convinced her insides were going to come up her body was so determined to rid herself of the fear and revulsion and pain Tommy Merlyn had just filled her with.

How could she not have recognized him before? He's famous. He's all over the tabloids. Not that she ever bothered to read that crap, but still. How?

Because she hadn't wanted to, she realized. She didn't want to confront this harrowing reality until she absolutely had to. And seeing him standing there, next to Oliver—her vigilante, hood-wearing, beautiful, kind Oliver—had broken something in her.

She had known for weeks Oliver's true identity. The shot up laptop had been an almost dead giveaway. How could a man who fought evil so resolutely be so blind to the evil right next to him? Felicity couldn't understand. How could he not know?

Because Tommy was his best friend, Felicity realized. No one wants to believe the worst in the people they love most. No one.

Oliver got shit faced that night for the first time since returning from the island. He reverted to his pre-island self and let himself go crazy, all in an attempt to forget what he'd witnessed at Queen Consolidated that afternoon between his best friend and Felicity whose significance he could not quite identify to himself.

He was torn between the loyalty he felt to his friend—the friend who had, after all, spent all five years hunting for him—and the new protectiveness and other unidentifiable emotions he felt for this IT girl.

If her were honest with himself, he would realize he already knew what was going on. He had suspected it for a long time with Tommy that everything wasn't as it seemed. After his mother died, Tommy changed. I mean, who wouldn't? But Tommy truly changed, like his very soul had been swapped for another, a darker one. His pets always died prematurely and his relationships were always brief. One girl was even brave enough to accuse him of hurting her, but Malcolm had paid her quite a lot to keep her quiet.

But tonight, Oliver broke character and refused to dwell on what he knew. He buried himself in alcohol until he passed out in the basement of the Foundry.

A few weeks later, Oliver was bleeding in the back seat of Felicity's hatchback, and their crime fighting partnership was cemented. Neither mentioned that day at Queen Consolidated with Tommy and eventually the incident faded entirely from Oliver's memory.

When Tommy died, a small part of Felicity felt freed. She comforted Oliver as best she could, but she couldn't help being thankful she wouldn't have to smile bravely every time Tommy was around. She had thought she would have to leave the team once Oliver revealed his secret to him, but only a few short months later, Tommy was dead, his memory untarnished by her secret. It was then that she swore she would never tell Oliver who had done this to her. She refused to taint the memory of his best and most devoted friend.

And so life continued on. It swirled past her as she and the Arrow team grew and faced new monsters like Slade Wilson, Metas from Central City, and the death of Sara at Thea's hand. It had been in the days following Sara's death that Katie Johnson's body had been discovered, partially burned in the Glades, covered in garbage outside the building Roy had found her close to unconscious next to.

It was the body's location that gave Felicity pause. She looked closely at the autopsy report, hacking easily into the SCPD's crime scene photos, and there it was. Above Katie's right breast was cut a delicate, but deep brand of the letterings "TM."

Felicity shoved herself backwards from the screen, hand flying to clasp her hip where the exact same mark wrapped the curve of her pelvic bone. She knew who had killed Katie Johnson. She knew exactly who.


	4. Chapter 4

**Yay! A new update in one day! Don't get used to it. I have a disease called lupus that knocks me out for days or weeks at a time, so I'll do my absolute best to update regularly, but I might need you to cut me a little slack.**

 **Also: I know some of you might be upset about how I'm portraying Tommy. I felt like he was such a bleh character in the show and they missed an opportunity to really polarize him, good or evil. I chose evil for this particular fic. Considering his screwed up childhood and sociopath dad. Hopefully his character will develop further through the story.**

 **Please keep reviewing! They're helpful!**

Just as Felicity clicked the last of the windows on her monitor closed and she was about to regain control over her breathing, her phone rang. With a start, she examined it finding a photo of Detective Lance grimacing back at her. She'd told him so many times that he looked younger, happier, better when he smiled. He rarely listened. His departmental portrait was no exception.

Quentin Lance had played along with her secret when he first discovered her work for the Arrow. He had limited contact with the Arrow anyway, preferring to contact her when he had new leads, new cases. Felicity imagined that Lance was familiar with keeping victims' secrets—that he had some kind of code he operated by, much like the rest of his life. She rolled that word around in her head and internally recoiled. Victim? No. Not quite. She hated to use clichés, but she certainly was a survivor. She didn't believe it was a competition, but Lance in the subsequent interviews following the attack, had pointed out that her rape had been particularly brutal. It was a night that neither Lance nor she would ever forget.

Felicity had fought hard to set herself free from the memories, though. It had taken years, but she believed she had won. Part of that victory had relied upon her work with Oliver. Oliver, without knowing, had offered her a hand and pulled her out of the pit she'd been thrown in. Her work for him renewed her sense of purpose everyday.

She wasn't always researching for Oliver, though. Well, her side research was sort of for team Arrow. At least that's what she told herself. Detective Lance had steadily referred women (and men) to her who were trying to escape abusive partners or didn't qualify for witness protection. Rape wasn't a capital offense, after all. Who cared what happened to a witness after she testified? Or squawked as her attacker would say.

Well, Felicity cared. She cared a great deal, and she had the skills to help. She was so good at erasing people's pasts that several of them were able to remain in Starling. Some had had to move away, sure. But she stayed in touch when she could.

Through the years, she also kept her eyes peeled, thumbing through case files for every assault in Starling, looking for any other woman branded with the same scars as hers.

So when Lance had finally confronted Felicity about her work for the Arrow, he was unsurprised. In a sense, Felicity had been the first Arrow. Sure, she didn't patrol the city in leather, hooded and carrying a bow and arrow. No, she patrolled on her tablet, computer, and phone. And she didn't hand victims off to SCPD. She followed them all the way. Thus, the moment the Arrow had first surfaced in Starling, Detective Lance had suspected it would only be a matter of time before Felicity joined the vigilante team if she hadn't already.

Lance had two girls. As far as he knew with his search through the department database, Felicity's dad was a fugitive, having abandoned her when she was young. Her mother was in Vegas, still working as a waitress. Her mom had saved every penny she had to send Felicity east to MIT in Boston. After her graduation—with honors—she came back west, finding herself at Queen Consolidated in Starling City. As far as the detective knew, Felicity was alone in the city. She was alone and a victim of one of the worst crimes Lance had seen in Starling for a long time, which was saying something considering the pit the Glades had morphed into.

When he had entered her hospital room all those years ago, Lance had felt an immediate urge to punch something. He hadn't had an urge so strong since his time as a beat cop, forced to watch men bash their girlfriends' and wives' heads in, powerless in the face of the women's silence.

Felicity had not stayed silent, however. She had done the best she could. Her answers were quiet, murmured softly, barely louder than the steady beep of the EKG above her, but she answered. Her voice was rough, sounding as though even her vocal cords bore the precise incisions that were this sicko's _modus operandi._ Lance knew, however, they were more likely sore from intubation and possibly relentless screaming; the body's last defense against pain.

Yes, Detective Lance not only liked Felicity, he respected her. Which was why, when the time came, he had kept his silence about their first meeting. It was not his story to tell. But over the years, he had kept an eye—two when he could manage—on her. She was far from helpless, but Quentin couldn't get the image of her in that hospital bed out of his mind. She had looked so small, fragile, swallowed by the machinery, tubes, and bandages. In the years since their first encounter, he had fought hard to reconcile the Felicity in that bed with the fierce, independent woman he had grown to love like his own family.

Lance worried his lip as he waited for Felicity to pick up. Ever since Katie Johnson's body had turned up, he'd been trying to get in touch. He had a feeling Felicity had already heard of Katie. That wasn't his primary concern. Felicity was the last confirmed victim of this guy. Actually, she was the only confirmed victim and that had been five years ago. He suspected there were others. A guy doesn't just start where he did with Felicity. He had to work up to that level of brutality. Lance said a silent prayer to whatever god or saint was listening for Felicity, knowing the return of this idiot would take its toll on her. It had only been a few hours since Katie's body was found but he was worried nonetheless.

"Detective?" came Felicity's voice, crackling slightly over the phone.

"Felicity?" Lance sank back into his chair, letting out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Yes, it's me, Detective. And I already saw the report. He's back." Felicity sounded resolute, steeled against the oncoming, but Lance knew better. He knew the fear that had run cold inside him when he'd seen Katie's body earlier was nothing compared to the white hot terror coursing through Felicity. But he wasn't surprised by her reticence. The steel in her voice was not for him.

"Yes. It appears so. Does… does our friend know?" Lance stuttered out, awash with concern for her but unable to articulate it.

"Not yet. I'll tell him about her."

"I think there are others. More that he's taken. Their bodies have never been found, but they all match his type."

There was a weighted pause as both Lance and Felicity reflected on the type of woman they were referring to: her.

"They're missing?" Felicity finally broke the silence.

"Yes. I'll send their case files to you," Lance offered, relieved to hear her steady voice again.

"It's okay, I've already got them. File marked 'TM' on your desktop?"

The Detective smiled in spite of himself. He should've known she'd be two, if not three or four, steps ahead of him.

"Yup. Those are it." He paused, pondering his next question. "Felicity, are you going to tell him?"

But before Detective Lance could finish his thought, Felicity cut through him. "Thank you, Detective. I'll speak to him when he gets back." And she was gone.

Lance sighed and lowered his receiver. She was stubborn, for sure, but part of Lance thought maybe that was what had made her recovery so successful. She had refused to let this animal dictate the terms of her life. Sure, he knew she'd purchase a state of the art alarm system after it first happened and replaced it every year with that year's latest upgrade. She had signed up for self-defense classes, much to her mother's delight. She carried mace and a stun gun wherever she went now. Detective Lance was going to offer to buy her these, knowing she wasn't the type for a gun, much to his displeasure, but Felicity had beaten him to it. But she had not been cowed. She was not broken, or even bent.

If anything, she walked taller these days.

As Felicity tapped her phone to end the call with Detective Quentin Lance, she rubbed the back of her neck, trying to release the tension that had built sharply at the base of her head over the past several minutes. Yes, he was definitely back. But how? Oliver had sworn he was dead. She had even attended his funeral with Oliver, seen the casket lowered into the ground.

Could it be Mirakuru? Could Slade Wilson have resurrected him with a dose of that wretched drug? The damn drug that should've stayed buried in the waters of the Pacific? That had cost Oliver his mother and so much more? Could that be it?

Or was there a Meta involved? One of those creatures born from the accident in Central City that her friend had been caught up in? Could one of them have some kind of power? A power to bring back the dead?

Was this something new? Had he returned by some unknown mechanism? Yet another power the Arrow team would have to confront?

What about Malcolm Merlyn? They had only recently discovered his survival. Was it possible that somehow Tommy had survived too? But Merlyn was so dedicated to Thea it seemed, so obsessed. He talked constantly of his dead son, of how he was making up for being a terrible father to him by taking care of Thea in the wake of Moira's death.

And the Mirakuru? No. Why would Slade want to bring Tommy back? What would that have gained him? How would that have hurt Oliver? Oliver loved Tommy. It seemed unlikely that Slade would have learned Tommy's secret. Why would Tommy share that when it would only give someone power over him?

No Meta had ever appeared with powers to resurrect and Tommy had been nowhere near Central City the night the collider had started. There was no way he could have been affected.

It had to be something new. Something she couldn't account for. Something none of them were able to fathom. And that unsettled her. How was he back? How could it even be possible?

Then the more troubling question struck her, causing her to hug herself tightly in fear: Why was he back?


	5. Chapter 5

**Another update?! Jeez. I'm spoiling you guys. (:  
Anyways, I've had a few questions I wanted to address:  
1\. I'll try to update at least once a week! But as I said before, I have a serious disease and sometimes I'm really sick (like admitted to the hospital sick) so if I don't update for a bit, that's why.  
2\. I imagine the story as taking place between season 2 and 3/early season 3. Thea knows and Malcolm Merlyn is back, but I'm not going to deal with Sara's death. (It doesn't fit into the story). Sorry for the cherry picking.  
3\. I'm going to reveal some things through flash backs, so if you feel like I've skipped something, keep your eyes peeled for a flashback that will explain.  
4\. OLICITY IS COMING! DO NOT WORRY! Trust me, it's gonna be soooo good when it gets here. (I hope)**

 **I've already got 14K words written and that gets us to chapter 9/10, but I've got editing and filling in to do. Again, this is my very first published fic. Still learning.**

 **"** What's this?"

The question was innocent enough, but when Felicity turned from the weapons display to see Oliver hunched over her computers, peering curiously at the close ups of Katie Johnson's corpse, Felicity's stomach plummeted.

"Uh, j-just something Lance asked me to look over." Felicity explained hurriedly, shouldering him away from her desk. She hadn't finished collating everything. She wasn't ready to present it to the team yet.

"What's that?" Oliver questioned, ignoring her rude entrance while he pointed at the "TM" cut elegantly into Katie's skin.

"You mean 'Who's that?'" Oliver grinned slightly at her pedantic nature.

"Alright, _who's_ that?"

" _Her_ name is Katie Johnson. SCPD found her dead under a pile of burning garbage. They think it was a body dump, failed attempt to destroy evidence, you know. Her purse was burning in the same trash pile."

"What happened here?" He said, again indicating the mark on her chest.

"Her attacker…" Felicity swallowed, ignoring the twinge in her hip where an identical scar lay. "After her attacker raped her, it seems he branded her."

"That's sick," Oliver muttered, not intending Felicity to hear.

"Yes. Yes it is."

"Is there a reason Lance brought this to you?" Oliver said, shaking himself. He couldn't help but see a resemblance between the girl on the screen and the girl sitting next to him. "I mean, not that we shouldn't look into it. It's just not his normal feed. I haven't heard of any other women like this, so it's not like the guy is serial. SCPD out of leads?"

"She's not the only one," Felicity stated, staring at the photos piled on her screen. Her face had become a mask.

Oliver paused at something in her voice, buried beneath her usual chattiness and bright air. Something that sounded utterly broken, like the slightest touch and Felicity would simply disintegrate in front of him. He turned her chair so she was facing him, seeing for the first time, the worry in her brow and redness around her eyes, the thin set of her mouth and her clenched, grinding jaw. Was this new? Had she been like this all morning? "Felicity…"

Snapping out of her revere, Felicity shook herself, physically and mentally. "Detective Lance thinks some of the unsolved missing persons from Starling might fit the profile."

Oliver dragged his eyes away from her and looked again at the photos of Katie Johnson. She was petite, but even looking at her broken body, he could tell she had stood tall, erect, and proud in her life. She was blonde and pretty with gentle blue eyes. It was her glasses that gave him pause. They weren't on her face in the photos of her in the garbage heap, but were included in individual shots of her personal belongings.

In his mind's eye, he placed them on Katie's face and nearly gasped. She looked like she could be Felicity's sister. He would have bet his life that there was less than an inch difference between their respective heights. As he stared, an image of Felicity's broken body flashed before him and he had to blink rapidly to clear it from his mind's eye.

He turned to face her, finding Felicity already staring at him. Her blue eyes were rimmed with tears, delicately clinging to her eyelashes. Why was she crying? Was she scared? Was she sad for Katie? Upset because of their likeness? Oliver's lips parted slightly, staring intently, never breaking her gaze. Felicity's jaw was still clenched, like she was holding something back, terrified that if she loosened her grip on it, it would slip from her lips.

Felicity wanted to tell him. She wanted to confess why she had always trembled in Tommy's presence. Why Roy and she shared a casual acquaintance from the beginning. Why all of her dresses had backs that were resolutely high, skirts an inch or two too long for her petite figure. Felicity wanted it all to tumble out of its own accord in that moment, but she held her breath, clenched her jaw, drew her lips into a thin line, considered pinching her nose closed, all so that it would not escape. She couldn't let it. It would change everything.

"Hey kiddos!" Diggle's voice boomed from the stairs.

Both Oliver and Felicity jerked away from each other. Felicity tried to wipe her eyes without Diggle seeing. Oliver moved in front of her, somehow anticipating her need for privacy and smiled at John.

"Hey man, ready to train?" Oliver queried as Digg set down his gym bag and headed for the mats.

"Ready if you are," he replied with a grin.

As John Diggle sparred with Oliver, he cast sidelong glances over to Felicity working, as usual, behind her computer screens. As they sparred, Oliver filled him in on Katie Johnson and the other missing girls from the Glades. Felicity remained silent. As Oliver described Katie's body, Diggle paused, earning him a hard uppercut in the gut.

When he regained his breath, he turned his attention to Oliver's gloating.

"Getting old or something? Yeesh."

Diggle grunted noncommittally and resumed the ready position. Again his concentration lapsed as they struck up a steady rhythm and his mind returned to Felicity. Once Oliver had described the nature of Katie Johnson's injuries, Digg's memory went into overdrive.

Memories flashed before him as he fought. Back when he and Felicity had first joined, it had been a night off for everyone on the Arrow team. The notebook lay closed in a drawer, Oliver had gone off to chase Laurel again and Roy had yet to join the team. Digg had stayed behind at the Foundry to train, thinking it would be nice to have the place to himself. Who did he have to go home to anyway?

After he had returned downstairs from making sure Oliver left safely on the Ducatti, he'd stood at the base of the steps and stretched, groaning loudly. Finally, he could use that salmon ladder with Oliver heckling him.

He approached the mats to stretch, shedding the long sleeve t-shirt he wore of her wife beater when a timid voice came from the corner.

"John?"

"Felicity?" Diggle spun and questioned the dark corner.

Felicity emerged from the shadow holding her gym back, dressed in workout gear. Very out of character for her. For the brief time he'd known her, Diggle had never seen Felicity lift anything other than a tablet, let alone throw a punch.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her.

"I… I have a favor I need to ask." She stammered, unsure of herself as she shifted her feet back and forth. This was very unlike her. She normally clacked around the lair in her heels like she had built the place. Well, in a sense she had. Most of the tech was thanks to her, after all.

Diggle softened his stance. "Of course, Felicity. What do you need?" Diggle moved towards her and she let herself be led further into the light.

"Well, don't laugh, but I've been taking self defense classes." Diggle quirked an eyebrow but didn't interrupt. "For years actually. But my teacher has left the area and I can't find anyone else I trust to teach me."

Diggle had then learned her teacher, Patricia, had retired and moved south to California to soak up a bit of sun in her old age. Skeptical as to how much a 65-year-old woman could teach people about self-defense, John agreed immediately. In truth, he was thankful Felicity was willing to learn how to defend herself. In their line of work, it was invaluable.

So about once a week, when Oliver took a night off, Diggle and Felicity met to work on her skills. She became stronger, surer, and calmer, as he taught her over the years. Felicity was an excellent student. She was driven and motivated. Every failure just pushed her to become better until even John struggled to find an opening in her defenses. He had suggested then that she begin to learn offensive moves. "The best defense is a good offense!" he had chided her, but she refused, no matter how much he badgered her. She said that the offense was his and Oliver's job. Not hers. Eventually Diggle dropped it and everything had continued on smoothly until one night about six months ago.

Diggle flipped her over his back causing her to hit the mats face first. The t-shirt she normally wore tucked into her shorts had ridden up, exposing the expanse of her back and sports bra. From the mat she groaned and moved to push herself up, but John had frozen in place.

Across her back flowed ornate patterns of scars that seemed to start somewhere at her right shoulder and followed an angle to her left hip. He couldn't immediately place what could cause such scars. Burns? An accident? But the moment "accident" formed in his mind, he discarded it. No. These were not accidental. If there was anything he was sure of with his glimpse, it was that these scars were intentional.

Felicity stood up slowly, smiling. "Warn me next time, Digg! Jeez." She gave him a playful smack of the arm, but Digg didn't move. "What's wrong? Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

John gently placed his hand on the small of her back and looked into her face. "What happened, Felicity?"

She froze. She realized that with that last flip, her shirt must have ridden up. She cursed herself for forgetting to secure it properly. Diggle's voice was laced with rage and pain, but also such tenderness that Felicity's walls crumbled. Before she could stop herself, the story was out. She told Diggle everything. Well, almost everything. Tommy was dead by then, right? There was no reason to slander his name now.

By the end she was crying, but still standing. Diggle had hugged her to his chest as he would his sister if he'd had one. It was then that he had promised himself and her, though she didn't know it at the time, that he would find who did this to her and make him suffer. He would pay for trying to take his chunk of Felicity. His grip tightened reflexively for a second before he let her go. She wiped clumsily at her tears and smiled weakly.

"Thank you."

"For what?" Diggle looked at her with bewilderment.

"Just. Thank you. I know you're plotting exotic and extravagant ways of causing this guy pain, but trust me. He's gone. He can't hurt me anymore."

"Not after I teach you a few more moves I just thought of. You're going to be unstoppable."

If he couldn't kill the guy, he decided his energy would be best served making it up to Felicity for the rest of her life. He nodded resolutely to himself, before something struck him.

"Oliver doesn't know, does he?" Diggle directed at Felicity's back as she dug through her gym bag for a tissue. If Oliver had known, Diggle was sure that the protective streak he had for the girl would've been multiplied infinitely. That's just how Oliver's mind worked.

She turned to face him. "No, he doesn't." Her face was full of emotion. The sheer vulnerability John read in her face made the decision for him.

He nodded. "It's yours to tell. Not mine."

She gave him a watery smile and hugged him again. Calling it quits for the night, he escorted her out to her car, his head on a swivel, watching for even a whisper of a threat. As he closed her driver's side door, he promised himself not to change how he acted around her. Felicity had survived. According to her, the guy was gone and it had been almost five years since the attack. He hadn't even known her yet, and the Felicity he knew now was one that he knew couldn't be broken easily. All the times he'd taken her to the mat and she'd gotten back up proved that to him.

With another look at Felicity tapping away on her keyboard, Diggle nailed Oliver with a left hook. No, this guy was definitely not going to hurt her now that he was back. He didn't care how he had managed to return, this monster would never come within a hundred yards of her. He had promised


	6. Chapter 6

**You guys are seriously spoiled, just so you know. (:  
Here's a longer one for you! I hope you like it. The next chapter is my favorite so far! Can't wait to share it with you!**

Oliver gathered the team that afternoon at Verdant in order to get them all up to speed on the death of Katie Johnson. As he waited for Diggle to return with Thea, Laurel, and Roy, he paced on the mats in front of Felicity. Felicity, unusually, took no notice of him, squinting intently at her screens, brow furrowed in concentration. She typed rapidly, sifting through data, Oliver assumed. _How could I ever manage without that woman?_ Oliver thought to himself. She was integral to this operation, perhaps more integral than even he.

Sure, he had the brawn, but she was the brains. He often thought maybe her brand of crime fighting—cyber attacks, hacking, the occasional digital arm twisting—was more effective than the physical arm twisting he practiced. Perhaps with her, there was less collateral. Felicity was efficient, no frills, no mess, and no need for theatrics. Oliver let a small smile curl the corners of his mouth. Well, maybe she had a small need for theatrics, but not in her work.

Before he could wrestle his rambling thoughts back into submission his mind had strayed to earlier that day when he'd first confronted her about Katie Johnson. He couldn't shake the feeling that Felicity was hiding something from him. The way she had shouldered past him when she saw him examining the case file photos still gave him pause. Mentally he shook himself.

What would Felicity have to hide? Especially with Katie Johnson? Perhaps she just wasn't ready yet to present it to him. She did always like to have everything organized and fully researched before bringing it to him and the team. But he had been sure that for a moment, there was more to it than that. The way those tears had clung to her eyelashes, her clenched jaw, the slight tremor in her face around her mouth. Had she been holding something back? Literally biting her tongue? What was it that she felt she couldn't share with him?

Oliver hadn't realized it, but he had stopped pacing and was now staring directly at Felicity.

"Hellooooooo?" Felicity waved her hand in front of her, trying to get Oliver's attention. "Anybody in there?" She smiled at him.

Oliver snapped back to attention, and after a moment, he too smiled. "Yeah, sorry. What's up?"

"It's okay. It's just you have a tendency not to blink when you're thinking. It's kinda hella creepy." Her lips quirked up at the corners. "I think I've finished with the missing persons Detective Lance sent me. Wanna take a look before the others get here?"

"Yeah, absolutely." Oliver paced around the desk, coming to a stop next to Felicity who was perched, as usual, in her if-anyone-ever-touches-it-I'll kill-them office chair.

"Are you okay, Oliver?" Felicity questioned him, genuine concern wrinkling her brow at the question. She placed her hand gently on his forearm and looked up to him.

Oliver paused. She was asking him if _he_ was okay? What about earlier? He had seen those tears, the look on her face. Shouldn't _he_ be asking _her_? But that was Felicity through and through. She came second. Everybody else came first.

"Yeah, of course. Just don't really like this case." It wasn't a lie, exactly. At least that's what he told himself.

Felicity sighed. "Neither do I." As she turned back to her desk, her hand slid down his arm. She briefly slid her fingers into his palm and squeezed gently. Before he could return the pressure, her hand was gone and she was speaking again.

"It seems Detective Lance has done a lot of the work for us. He has five possibles. Cally Johannson, Shannon West, Loren Schmidt, Elizabeth Ethel, and Charlotte May. Katie Johnson would make six." She swallowed, averting her eyes from Oliver. "I'm still working on what makes them all similar, you know, figuring out this guy's _modus operandi_."

All six women's drivers license photos were linedd up on the screen in front of Oliver. He immediately knew, at least on the surface, what made all these women fit together. They were all beautiful, blonde-haired, blue-eyed petite women. Not a single one was over five foot six and every license had one limitation listed: corrective lenses.

Oliver leaned forward and gripped the edge of the desk to steady himself. For the second time that day, he felt like Felicity was looking out at him from the case file.

"Oliver, seriously. Are you okay? You look like you're about to throw my babies across the basement or something." Felicity looked genuinely concerned, fingering her glasses. The only things she coveted more than her chair were her computers.

"Yeah, of course I am. I'm fine." Oliver forced himself to relax and smile at her.

Felicity opened her mouth as if you protest, but at that moment, they both heard the basement door click open and several sets of feet descending the metal staircase. Diggle had rounded up the others and returned to help bring everyone up to speed.

Oliver was relieved not to be alone with Felicity anymore. He didn't know how much longer he would be able to keep himself for shaking her to get her to tell him what the hell was going on. What wasn't she telling him?

"Is this about the girl they found out in the Glades this morning?" Roy questioned without introduction.

Thea and Laurel glanced at him and then at Oliver and Diggle. "What girl?" Thea asked.

"Her name is Katie Johnson and she was found this morning in a burning dumpster. Failed attempt at destroying evidence, probably." Everyone looked around at once. Felicity had emerged from behind Oliver and carrying her tablet, flicking images onto one of the larger screens so everyone could see the crime scene photos.

"SCPD found her like this. As you can see, she's naked, but her clothes and purse were with her. That's what makes me think it was about destroying evidence rather than hiding the body. She'd been raped and tortured." Felicity displayed the close up shot of Katie's chest where the branded "TM" stood out prominently on the unhealed skin.

"What the hell?" Roy muttered, staring wide eyed at the screen.

"We think… We think it's the killer's signature," Felicity stuttered. Clearing her throat, she continued. "There are five other possible victims."

With a few taps to Felicity's tablet, the six licenses of the women appeared. "The first possible victim was Cally Johannson, prostitute in the Glades. We don't know much about her. The case is cold and honestly, she was lucky to even get listed as missing because of her line of work.

"Next we have Shannon West. She went missing in 2010. She worked in the Glades as a social worker and didn't show up for work one morning. When SCPD went to investigate, they found this." With another swipe of her finger, Felicity displayed a crime scene photo of Shannon West's apartment. It appeared that not a single piece of furniture remained unbroken, but it was the blood that showed the true damage. There was a huge pool of blood in the center of the floor and spatter covering all four walls.

"Oh my god," Laurel whispered, covering her mouth with her fingers.

Felicity had felt the same way when she had first seen this photo, but she had an idea as to why the scene was so brutal. Shannon West went missing two days after Felicity had shown up in the ambulance bay of Starling General.

"They never found a body, so she's still considered missing." Felicity continued.

"Missing my ass. Nobody could survive that much blood loss." Diggle cut in.

Everyone was silent for a moment, agreeing, before Felicity pushed on. "Loren Schmidt was next."

"I remember her. She went missing right after you got back, Ollie." Thea said.

"Yeah, just a couple weeks after in fact. Wealthy family and all." Felicity added.

"The police thought she was a runaway since she had had a loud confrontation with her parents the night before. She was a Harvard grad and wanted to go into international aid, but her father wanted her to take over the Schmidt family company. I remember SCPD assumed she'd fled internationally since that's where she wanted to work, but her trust fund was never accessed and there's no record of her ever leaving the country." Thea filled in helpfully.

"Then there's Elizabeth Ethel. Starling native, worked in midlevel management as a secretary at Merlyn Global. She was supposed to go solo on a business trip ahead of her boss, but she never showed up for the plane. She wasn't reported missing until a week later when her boss showed up in Gotham and she wasn't waiting for him.

"The last of the missings is Charlotte May. She was from out of town, here for a job interview and when the place called to follow up, she never returned the call. She also never checked out of her hotel, and when police went to investigate, they found this." On the screen appeared a photograph of a pair of glasses folded neatly on a bedside table beside a perfectly made bed.

Felicity again displayed all six women's licenses. "So it appears that besides Cally Johannson, these women were all successful and in their early to mid twenties. Cally could have been a trial run, possibly. Then there's also their physical similarities, which I'm sure you can all see. They also all preferred to wear glasses rather than contact lenses." Felicity nervously adjusted with her own glasses, looking down at her feet.

While Oliver, Thea, and Laurel gazed intently at the screen, Diggle and Roy had turned their faces to Felicity. Both were gazing at her with an intensity to rival Oliver's earlier staring contest.

Diggle's fists were clenched at his sides with his jaw working furiously to control his anger. Roy was also in disbelief. Both knew that Felicity had quite possibly omitted a seventh victim: herself. They were both honest men and had sworn to keep her secret, but neither could ignore what they knew. While they didn't know for sure that Felicity's assault was related to these women, anytime there was a sexual battery or murder case in Starling, Felicity was always at the forefront of their minds. Every domestic abuser, rapist, wife beater, and predator was the anonymous monster who had taken Felicity before they had even known her—before they could ever protect her.

"Alright everybody," Oliver broke in. "I want everyone out patrolling. Roy, I need you to get to your street contacts, see what the rumors are. Thea, you go with him. Check on Malcolm while you're at it. Make sure he's secure. Laurel, can you see what you can find out through the DA's office? Maybe this guy has been through the system before. Diggle and I are going to scout out the area around where Katie Johnson's body was found."

With their instructions, the team slowly scattered, heading to their respective posts with a kind of determination that only crimes like this could inspire. All of them were united by one feeling: they loved this city. And having an animal like this loose in the streets, unnoticed for at least seven years, disturbed them. They were the city's last defense. They prowled the underbelly of Starling, searching for exactly this type of person, but this man's crimes had gone unnoticed, even by them.

As the team broke up, Felicity was left alone. She preferred it that way. She needed to do some of her own research into Tommy and his whereabouts and would rather not have anyone looking over her shoulder while she worked. She still couldn't bring herself to let go of that final secret. Her old searches had stopped running when Tommy died. Why would she need to look for a dead man anyway? She'd stood next to his coffin as it was lowered into the ground, and had even contributed a handful of soil to his grave. That day, she had returned home to erase all vestiges of Tommy from her hard drive. She'd thought it ended in the graveyard, and those constant tags on his credit cards and trust funds were useless. Today she thoroughly regretted turning them off.

As she sat down to her work, she heard the basement door open again. Glancing around, it didn't appear as though anyone had forgotten any gear. A panicked thought raced through her head. _Tommy knows the code to the basement._ Oliver had let Tommy in on his hooded secret, after all. Felicity had stood in this very same basement, frozen under the leer of her attacker as he ingratiated himself to John only a few months after she herself had joined team Arrow.

Felicity quickly stood from her desk and assumed the defensive position Diggle had taught her, quickly reviewing the lair for possible weapons and obstacles.

At the top of the stairs, there appeared a familiar set of boots, and the rest of her friend Diggle made itself known quickly. Felicity visibly relaxed, swiftly lowering her forearms away from her chest before he could see her skittishness.

"John, I thought you were—"

"I know who you thought I was." Diggle said calmly. "Well, I may not know his name, but I can guess." He gestured at the photos of the six women still displayed on the screen.

Felicity glanced at the display, then looked down at her feet. She should have known that John would feel compelled to protect her, especially now that her attacker appeared to have returned. "John, please."

"I'm not going to tell him. Not if you don't first. He should know. You know he'd want to."

"Do I?" Felicity said looking up into her friend's face. "Do I know that he'd want to know? Did you want to know, John?"

"Yes. The moment I saw your back, I didn't just want to know. I needed to know. I love you, kid. I couldn't have gone on not knowing."

Felicity's eyes brimmed slightly with tears as she stepped forward and hugged Diggle. "I know. I know you love me. I love you, too." She let out a sob. "I'll tell him. I promise."

"Tell who what? Felicity, what's wrong? Why are you crying?"

Felicity and Diggle looked around to find Oliver standing at the bottom of the stairs, having returned to find John. "What is it?" Oliver questioned again.

"Nothing." Felicity said hurriedly, wiping her eyes sloppily with her hand. "We were talking about Detective Lance. Telling him what we've found."

"We haven't found anything, yet." Oliver said flatly.

Both Diggle and Felicity were silent.

"What's going on?" Oliver started forwards towards both of them.

"Nothing, seriously." Felicity attempted to smile at him.

At this final denial, Oliver exploded. "IT'S OBVIOUSLY NOT NOTHING!" He advanced on Felicity. "Tell me what the hell is going on!"

"Oliver, there's nothing going on. I promise."

"Don't lie to me! I've known it since this morning."

"Oliver, you need to calm down," Diggle cut in, placing himself between Oliver and Felicity. "Seriously, take a deep breath dude. Nothing's going on."

"Nothing my ass! I know you've made the connection, too!" Both Diggle and Felicity froze. "All those girls are basically carbon copies of Felicity! She's exactly this guy's type! That's why you're down here, questioning her. You know she could be next!"

Diggle and Felicity looked at each other, exchanging a veiled look that Oliver couldn't understand. "That's it! One of us is staying with Felicity from now on. Until we catch this guy."

"No way!" Felicity spoke up. "I can take care of myself!"

"Felicity," Oliver turned again to her, adopting a slightly calmer tone, but his body remained tense. "This is not a time to whip out your stubborn streak. Please. This guy is dangerous and you don't know the first thing about self-defense. You've never let either of us teach you. Let us take you home and keep you safe."

Oliver moved to grab her arm to lead her to her car, but Felicity was too fast for him. As he extended his hand, she grabbed his middle and ring finger, and before Oliver could yank them away, twisted them sharply up and over his shoulder. Oliver was so caught off guard that he stumbled and landed hard on his hip.

Felicity used the opening to shoulder past Diggle and step over Oliver.

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself! I am not some baby! Now leave me ALONE!" Felicity screamed before she darted up the stairs and out of the club.

As the door to the basement slammed behind her, she caught Diggle saying, "Let her go, man."

She regretted getting so angry as she climbed into her car, but if she was honest with herself, she was scared, and all of that fear had set her on edge. She'd just snapped, albeit at the wrong people, but who could blame her? Tommy was back, and her gut told her that he would be coming for her soon. He would want to finish what he started five years ago. Shannon West's apartment was proof that her escape had enraged him.

With that thought hanging over her head, she raced for home. She sprinted up her complex's stairs to her apartment and bolted herself inside. For a moment she leaned against her door, panting, before she armed the alarm and checked every window and door lock in her place, running from room to room. She put wedges of wood into the door and window jams in order to prevent them from being opened, even if the locks were broken. Breathing heavily, she stood in the center of her kitchen, listing the location of every defensive item she owned, imagining every possible scenario and how she would fight back. Hours later, exhausted and running on fumes, Felicity sank to the floor and finally cried.

Curled up on the linoleum, she let every tear fall that she'd been holding in all day, ever since she'd first seen Katie Johnson's broken body lying in that dumpster. All of her fear and anger and sadness rolled off of her with each sob that wracked her body until she was left whimpering and shaking on the floor. Slowly, she returned to herself, her body calming and the tears stopped finally. Pushing herself into a sitting position, she started to reorder her thoughts, just as her therapist had taught her years ago.

Her first thought was of Oliver. How could she have been so cruel to him? He was just trying to help, albeit in an extremely aggressive and annoying way, but his intentions were good. She realized it all came back to Oliver not knowing her secret. Roy knew because he had saved her. Detective Lance knew because he had to. It was his job. Diggle had found out by accident. But these men knowing didn't scare her or intimidate her. Perhaps it was because she had no choice in the matter with them. With Oliver she did. But even that didn't cover it fully.

No, she was afraid to tell Oliver because she had so much of herself bound up in the mission of the Arrow—so much bound up in him. For so long, she'd tried to convince herself that what was between them was one-sided. That Oliver couldn't reciprocate her feelings. They were friends, best friends even, but nothing more. But today had changed everything. Tommy was back. And she was terrified. And her fear had offered her a kind of clarity of thought. The contrast in her vision seemed clearer and distractions had fallen away. Only what was truly important remained in the presence of her fear.

But Oliver was afraid, too. If it was anything that convinced Felicity of Oliver's feelings for her, it was the expression on his face when he had insisted on protecting her. It wasn't one of determination or grit that normally presented in the face of her usual stubbornnes. His face had been etched with true fear and anguish. He was terrified for her.

As this dawned on Felicity, she pushed herself up and hurried to her room to change. She wanted to look nice. Well, maybe not nice, but pulled together. Not the wild, scared mess she'd been when she left Verdant a few hours before. She brushed her hair, leaving it down, and fixed her makeup before grabbing her keys and heading for the door.

It was time Oliver knew the truth.


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm feeling really generous. Here's my favorite chapter so far!  
In other news: I finally figured out how to put breaks it! Woo!  
Enjoy! And please review! I love hearing from you all.**

* * *

He was walking past the door to the flat when he heard the chime of the doorbell. He considered ignoring it. It was late and the new trouble in the Glades he and his team had been working on all afternoon had left him exhausted. As had his fight with Felicity. At the second chime, Oliver swerved and opened the door more forcibly than was strictly necessary.

"Yes?" Oliver bit out.

"Oh, Oliver. Is this a bad time?"

It was Felicity. Oliver immediately adjusted his posture and tone. "No! Felicity, I'm sorry. I thought it was…"

"Someone you didn't want to see?" She offered. Something was wrong. She was picking at her fingernails and staring at Oliver's shoes, refusing to look up at him. He hadn't expected to see her tonight, but now that she was here, he knew something was wrong.

"Come in, Felicity," he said, voice rough with hours of disuse. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing." She wrung her hands together before drawing herself up to her full height. "Do you have a moment to talk? Privately?"

"Anything for you, Felicity," he said trying to keep his voice level, but cursing the small hitch that came out instead. He stared at her intently as she dropped her hands to her side and took a deep breath. She always walked tall and proud, but tonight she seemed different.

He extended his hand letting her lead the way up the stairs. At the top, he gently placed his palm on the small of her back to guide her to the left and down the corridor to his bedroom. Oliver opened the door and allowed her to enter first.

Once inside, Oliver walked past her and settled himself on the edge of his bed, while Felicity remained by the door, closing it quietly. Oliver opened his mouth, but before he could offer her a seat, she cut in.

"I've been keeping something from you," she said calmly, looking him straight in the eye, as if challenging him to react.

He had assumed as much. "Felicity…"

She held up her hand to stop him. He hadn't realized he had begun to rise from the bed. At her indication, he sank slowly back down, his back erect and mind attentive.

She reached down and removed her pumps, setting them neatly to the side. She took a deep breath and looked straight into Oliver's eyes. Without preamble, she reached behind her and unzipped her dress, allowing it to slide down her arms, over her hips and pool on the floor. Oliver stood without meaning to, opening his mouth to protest, but the look on her face stopped him. She looked so determined, but a flicker behind her eyes stilled him again. In that one moment he knew how much this moment was costing her, even if he didn't yet know why. There was something in the set of her eyes that told him any interruption would break her nerve and silence her forever.

Her sure hands reached up again, undoing her bra, letting it fall at her feet before sliding her underwear down to join the pile.

He couldn't help but look. He drank her in. She had always been beautiful to him, but tonight he learned exactly what it felt like to have his breath stolen by another. As he stared at her in the fading light, it was as if his soul was slowly being filled. Like he was drinking cool water for the first time in his life, replenishing, refilling. Something in his heart clicked into place, whirring away and he knew this would change everything. He knew he'd never be able to hold back the flood now.

As he stared, adoration flooding through him, she stepped forward. He thought at first she was coming to him, but she turned slightly to stand directly under the chandelier. She looked directly into his face, gentle shadows pooling on her cheeks, and slowly turned so her back was facing him. Oliver's eyes followed her path, but as she turned, he knew something was wrong.

In the soft light of his bedroom, Oliver could see all along her back, starting just below the curve of her right shoulder, traveling down over her back and n the side of her left hip were precise, swirling patterns, drawn in ridged, slightly raised, white lines. His first instinct was that they were part of some complex tattoo, but a moment's closer inspection revealed their true nature.

Even after all of his time on the island, he'd never seen scar tissue like this. His scars were all jagged, mottled, imperfect. They dotted his body in a random order, each a testament to a separate event. A burn here, bullet wound, puncture would there. Felicity's scars weren't even comparable. These were precise, intentional, and unmistakable. Someone had taken a lot of time, and a lot of effort to carve a specific pattern into her.

"No," he choked, unable to control his voice. This couldn't be possible. No one could have done this to Felicity. Not the woman he knew. This was an act of hatred, pure, unadulterated rage. She could never inspire such a feeling in anyone. Tender, kind, reliable, compassionate, loyal. If anyone had asked, that would have been how he would describe her. But this someone had only unleashed evil upon her.

He saw her shiver imperceptibly at his declaration. He stepped towards her, hand reaching out to trace the delicate design but stopped short.

"Who?"

She turned, hands at her sides, lightly tracing the edges of the scars on her hip. Looking deep into his eyes, she challenged him.

Oliver moved backwards, stumbling, before sliding to the floor, staring at her wide eyed as the image of the torture she'd endured and the face he'd come to know—come to love—collided in his mind. She followed, arm outstretched, coming to kneel in front of him. Reaching out, she took his hand in both of hers, looking at him with such vulnerability. In that one gesture, Oliver realized she hadn't just taken off her clothes in front of him. She was _naked_. Truly and irrevocably derobed, body and soul.

"When?"

"Before. When you were on the island."

Oliver's expression twisted. The whole time he had known her, she'd carried this burden. She'd been suffering silently, shouldering his cross when she already bore one of her own. How could he not have known?

The look of desolation and despair that crossed Oliver's face was too much for Felicity to bear. She had remained calm and as detached as possible throughout this ordeal, but now she pushed herself forward, forgetting her nakedness and wrapped him into her gentle embrace as his head fell to his hands and his shoulders shook. Rubbing small gentle circles into his back with her palm, she whispered to him over and over again, unable to bear the damage she had just done, feeling selfish and insolent.

"Oliver, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have told you this. It wasn't fair. This wasn't your burden. Please, Oliver. I'm sorry." She declared, trying to hold back tears. She could never forgive herself for reducing Oliver to the shivering mass in her arms.

As she spoke, however, Oliver stilled. Slowly, he lifted his face to meet hers. She tried to look away from his red-rimmed eyes, knowing her face was contorted with shame, but with a swift hand, Oliver grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"Never apologize for this," he growled with such force, Felicity was sure the whole room must have shook beneath them.

She opened her mouth to reply, but Oliver moved swiftly, crushing her mouth with his in the fiercest kiss either of them had ever known. He cupped the back of her head firmly, drawing her to him with the other flat on her back. His kiss was unrelenting, wild, and full of emotions neither of them could vocalize. Felicity arched gently into him as he pulled her to him.

As quickly as it had begun, though, it was over. Oliver pulled back and rested his forehead on hers, closing his eyes. He steeled himself for what he knew he had to ask next.

"Your back isn't all he did, is it?" He asked as he swirled his fingers along the scars on her back.

She shuddered, holding back tears. "No. It's not all he did."

Her tears began to leak freely and his grip on the back of her head tightened and he drew her into his lap, wrapping himself around her, as though if he could somehow curl around her entirely, he could be her armor from any further harm. She bit out a gasping sob as he opened his eyes again to look at her with more love than she thought possible. They were both shaking, clinging to each other to keep themselves grounded.

"Digg knows."

Oliver tried to hide his surprise but Felicity saw it immediately.

"He figured it out. He saw the scars on my back once and you know me. I'm a terrible liar. We haven't spoken about it for a long time. Not until today. That's what we were talking about earlier when you came in."

"I need to know what happened. Please."

"Are you sure?" Felicity searched his face and found such earnest adoration and concern she was temporarily speechless.

Oliver merely nodded giving his assent. Felicity shuddered with hesitation and cold.

Picking up immediately on her discomfort, Oliver reached up to pull the duvet from the bed and wrapped it around them both. As he wrapped his arms around her, his palm came to rest on her left hip. His fingers delicately traced the pattern of scars there, trying to fathom out their path. He closed his eyes, willing his rage down, deep into himself, saving it for later.

Just as Felicity had steeled herself, ready to tell Oliver the entire truth—a truth she'd never revealed before—someone rapped sharply on the door to his bedroom..

"Ollie?" came Thea's voice.

Before Oliver could open his mouth to tell her to go away, Felicity was standing, and moving to her pile of clothes by the door. All of the steel that had been in her a moment before was gone. It was then that he saw it: the stylized, carved "TM" he'd seen for the first time that morning. He froze, horrified. Felicity really was in danger, but not just because of her looks, her similarity to the others. No, she was in danger because she had survived. What if this monster wanted to finish the job? What if he came for her? Just as Felicity zipped up her dress, Oliver reached her and grabbed her arm.

"Felicity," he growled, eyes searching her face as she tried to hide behind a curtain of blonde hair. "Felicity, please."

The voice outside the door came again, "Ollie? Are you in there?"

He looked up and his moment of distraction was all Felicity needed to slip from his grip and out the door to his bedroom. Before he could chase after her, Thea stood before him.

"Ollie! Felicity, what are you—?" Thea started, but Oliver ignored her.

He unceremoniously shouldered past her, racing out his door and down the stairs, but as he flung the front door of the building open, he heard the squeal of tires as Felicity sped down the drive.

Oliver considered chasing after her. He knew his Ducatti could catch up to her tiny hatchback, but something stopped him. Diggle had told him to let her go earlier. Maybe that's what she needed now, too.

He would hate himself for not going after her for the rest of his life.

* * *

 _I probably shouldn't be driving._ Felicity thought to herself. _I can barely see through my glasses._

Tears were streaming down her face as she pulled over onto the shoulder to calm down. She tried to steady herself with a few deep breaths. As her mind cleared again, she was able to retrace her steps to before her panic attack when Thea knocked on the door. When she remembered Oliver and his reaction, her gut twisted. He'd looked devastated. For that she felt guilty, but just as quickly as the guilt came, it was replaced with a small flood of happiness.

 _Oliver kissed me._

She smiled in spite of herself, touching her fingertips to her lips, tracing gently the path of his mouth only minutes before. It had been nice. Perhaps not the context she'd envisioned for their first kiss, but it had been beautiful nonetheless.

Felicity sat back in her seat, smiling. She closed her eyes to savor the feeling of elation that had surged through her. If she had doubted how Oliver felt for her before tonight, she was certain now. There was no other way to interpret the way he had looked at her. He may have been angry, upset, even scared. But he also cared. He wanted her there with him. If only she had been braver and stayed.

Without warning, something exploded in her ear and she was showered with shards of flying safety glass. She opened her eyes in time to see a hand reaching in, and before she could even contemplate fighting back, the hand was fisted in her hair. She yanked away from him, but only felt several hanks of hair rip out. Her attacker's grip was fast as ever.

With one swift, brutal movement, he shoved her head forward, slamming it into her steering wheel. With one blow, he'd knocked her unconscious. Carefully, he unlocked the door and dragged Felicity from her seat, pulling her across the asphalt to his car, allowing her body to bump and scrape across the uneven pavement. After locking her securely in the trunk, he started his car and pulled away calmly.

SCPD would find the car at 7 AM the next day, abandoned with a shattered window and blood splattered on the steering wheel. By then, Felicity was nowhere to be found.


	8. Chapter 8

**I just wanna say you guys better appreciate this update because in the process of editing/posting, I dropped my oreo in my milk and then the milk sloshed all over my phone. ): So I had a super soggy oreo and a milky phone. I hope this chapter is worth it.**

 **One thing I wanted to address: Several of you are concerned Felicity was a little OOC in the last chapter. I think people sometimes miss out on exactly how much steel Felicity has in her. She's not as helpless as people thing, so at least for me it wasn't that OOC. BUT there was another reason I had her take her skivvies off: the location of the ever important "TM" mark is on the side of her hip where her underwear would have covered it (her bra also would've covered the scars on her back) and thus, if she hadn't taken them off, Oliver wouldn't have been able to see the "TM" at the end of the chapter, which is super important! (: I hope that makes sense.**

 **I do take all of your reviews to heart though! They're amazing.**

 **TRIGGER WARNING: RAPE AND TORTURE (and for several chapters hence, but I will post warnings at the top of each)**

* * *

Oliver couldn't sleep. He struggled with insomnia regularly, but tonight was different. It wasn't the past gnawing at him that night, or even Felicity's confession, but something else entirely. Some unnamed anxiety covered him in a pale sheen of sweat and caused his heart to race in his chest. A feeling in his gut that all was not right in his world. There was something inside him that told him he should have gone after Felicity.

He gave up trying to sleep around five in the morning. Clambering out of bed, he showered, and dressed, before heading out on his bike. In the early morning light, he cruised through the streets of Starling, taking in the city, and turning Felicity's revelation over in his mind, trying to make sense of it. Why hadn't she told him before? Who had done this to her? Was it really the same man who had been brutalizing women in the Glades? How had he taken her? Why had she been so scared to tell him who he was? Was his identity that much more terrible than what he had done to her?

She had been scared, he assumed. That was why she hadn't told him before now. He hadn't told her everything that had happened on the island, very little actually. He couldn't blame her for keeping this a secret. He would have.

No, the question that bore into him was the identity of her assailant. There was no question to him after running it over in his head that this was the same man who had killed Katie Johnson. Felicity made seven known victims of this guy. But why hadn't she told him? Did she know herself? Perhaps she'd never seen his face. Maybe she was drugged or blindfolded.

At that thought, Oliver accidentally revved hard on the Ducatti's engine, putting on a hard burst of speed. The image of Felicity bound and bleeding with some unknown man forcing himself on her flared anger in Oliver's chest he'd never felt before. He hadn't wanted to kill anyone as much as he did right now. Making a silent vow to Felicity that he would find this guy and end him, he set his jaw and turned the bike towards the Glades.

These thoughts carried him all the way to Verdant without much input from his senses. He numbly descended the stairs into the basement and mechanically fell into his typical routine. He checked Felicity's searches, took inventory of the gear, medical supplies, etc., seriously considered calling Felicity, but thought better of waking her, and set to work on the mats.

He had no idea what time it was when he heard someone upstairs in the club.

"Hello? Postal service. Mr. Queen? I'm looking for a signature?" the voice echoed through the empty club.

Oliver took the steps two at a time, wondering to himself why anyone had sent a package to him at the club. Before he could ponder all the possibilities, he had distractedly signed for the thin package and returned to the basement. He considered tossing it aside and dealing with it later, but with nothing better to do until the rest of the team showed up, he decided to open it.

Standing in front of the bank of Felicity's computers, he slit the top of the package with a spare arrowhead she kept there. He smiled at the arrow in his palm. It was broken, but Felicity had taken a liking to it and insisted on keeping it with her while she worked. She said it helped her focus. It reminded her of what they were doing and why or something.

Delicately, he extracted the contents of the package, letting them fall onto the desk. The first to slide out of the envelope was an unmarked, black USB drive, followed by a neatly folded piece of white paper, and a pair of glasses.

Oliver stared at the glasses with disbelief. They were familiar, black, plastic, oversized, but entirely out of place without the face they belonged to. And that face never went anywhere without these.

"No," Oliver muttered, picking the glasses up delicately. One lens was cracked in a spider web pattern and the frames were sticky with what felt horribly like drying blood. He stared at them in disbelief before fumbling for the piece of paper that accompanied them. Unfolding it delicately, Oliver read the plain black text centered on the page:

 **FOR YOUR VIEWING PLEASURE.**

His heart hammering in his chest, Oliver nimbly picked up the final item in the package: the USB drive. Gently sliding the lever to push the out port, he plugged the drive into the reader Felicity kept for information that may contain a virus or Trojan horse found on a mission or sent to them anonymously. A folder opened immediately on the desktop with a single icon inside.

 **CLICK ME**

Oliver contemplated briefly stopping here, calling Digg and Roy, but his hand moved of its own accord, clicking on the icon. As soon as he clicked, he was assaulted with an image that would be burned into his memory forever.

Through the grainy feed of what looked like a webcam, Oliver could see Felicity, but it wasn't Felicity as he knew her. He was looking down on her from an angle. She was laid out, hands tied to the headboard of a metal bed, feet spread open and hooked with chains to the footboard. She was wearing the dress he had seen her in last night, but it was torn beyond recognition. Her legs were dirty and scraped as if she'd been dragged. She was unconscious, head lolled to the side and a trickle of blood spreading onto the mattress by her temple.

"NO" Oliver screamed into the screen.

"Oliver, what's wrong?"

Oliver spun on his heel, wild eyed and raging to find Diggle approaching down the stairs.

"Diggle. It's Felicity. She's—" Oliver choked, unable to find the words for what he had found on that drive.

Diggle took the second half of the stairs three at a time, sprinting to Oliver. "Felicity? What's wrong, Oliver?" John grabbed Oliver's shoulders, forcing him to stand up straight from his hunched position and look at him.

As an answer, Oliver stepped aside to allow John a view of her unconscious, prone form lying on some anonymous bed in an unknown part of the city.

"No. Felicity." John croaked, placing his palm on the screen, pressing until his fingers turned white, distorting the screen, as though if he pressed hard enough, he could fall through that digital window and rescue her. "Is she dead?"

"No. Watch her chest." Oliver said through clenched teeth.

Diggle stared intently at the form on the screen for several seconds. He counted her breathing, trying to verify each rise of her chest wasn't a trick of the light. He had to be sure all was not yet lost. The promise he'd made over and over again was now shattered in his hands. He could never go back. This monster had taken her and he'd done nothing to prevent it. But he was glad of his rage. It gave his mind clarity, a purpose.

"What's the plan?" Diggle asked, not moving his eyes from Felicity.

Oliver wheeled around. He had no plan. He had no idea where to even begin. They'd only recognized the pattern yesterday and it was Felicity who had brought it to his attention. He had nothing. He had no idea who this man was, or where he'd taken Felicity. Or why he had gone to so much trouble to make sure Oliver could see what Felicity was suffering.

A low buzzed hummed on the desk beside Oliver. He tore his eyes away from Felicity to stare at the phone. Who the hell was calling? It took him a second to recognize Detective Lance's face on the caller ID.

When Oliver answered he had no chance before Lance was screaming into his ear.

"WHERE THE HELL IS SHE? WHAT MESS HAVE YOU GOTTEN HER INTO NOW YOU SON OF A BITCH? SHE'S A GOOD KID. WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE? YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO PROTECT HER."

Oliver leaned forward, cradling his head in his hands. What the hell was he supposed to say to Lance?

"Detective—"

"DON'T YOU DETECTIVE ME. WE JUST FOUND HER CAR, WINDOW SMASHED, BLOOD ALL OVER THE PLACE. THERE'S NOTHING HERE. DO YOU HEAR THAT? NOTHING! SHE'S GONE AND THIS IS YOUR DAMN FAULT. WHO THE HELL TOOK HER?"

"I don't know, Detective. I really don't."

Oliver heard Lance take a few huffing breaths on the other end of the phone before he spoke again. "What do you know?"

"She's alive. Someone has her. We don't know who."

"Is it the same monster who took her before?"

"How do you—"

"I took her statement in the hospital five years ago. I'll assume she never told you."

Oliver remained silent, processing.

"You're going to keep me in the loop on this. You hear me?" Detective Lance bit through the phone.

Oliver nodded his assent before realizing Lance couldn't see him. "We'll call you when we know something."

With that, Oliver ended the call and gripped the burner phone in both hands as tight as he possibly could. The plastic of the case creaked and snapped under the force, but Oliver didn't care. He needed something to focus his energy on or else he might snap. Oliver started to stand up but a glance at John stopped him.

"Oh God." Diggle was backing away from the screen. His eyes were wide with terror and revulsion and he hands were shaking.

Oliver moved quickly, unable to fathom what would make a man like John Diggle react so viscerally. It took only a moment for him to realize what caused John to back away so quickly.

A second person had entered the camera's frame, obviously male but otherwise unidentifiable with his back to the lens. The anonymous man reached down and smacked Felicity sharply across the face. Oliver growled low and deep, his knuckles turning pure white as his hands clenched the metal desk. He quickly took a mental inventory of the visible characteristics of the man.

Tall, about Oliver's height, dark haired, brown or black—impossible to tell with the quality of the feed. His shirt was tailored and fit him well. The sleeves where rolled up revealing well toned forearms and strong hands. The hands looked delicate, though. Well cared for. In fact the entire man seemed well cared for. His clothes were neat, expensive, his hair combed and cut. He certainly didn't appear haggard or deranged as Oliver had imagined.

On the screen, Felicity stirred, lifting her face to look towards both the man and the camera. At first her expression was one of confusion, then of shock, and then, horribly, of recognition. There was no mistaking what she said, even without sound.

"You!"

* * *

Felicity jerked hard on the chain that bound her hands to the bed. Feeling no give, she looked back up into the face she'd spent years trying to scorch from her memory.

"You're supposed to be dead, you son of a bitch."

"Ah, yes. A convenient cover, don't you think?" the man replied calmly, grinning down on her. "I was worried you of all people would figure it out. I was careless, leaving that girl where I did. Letting her escape. Much like you. I was young, though, unconcerned, and lax with security for you. I should have been worried, but you were a glorious secret keeper. Never told anybody about me, even after you figured out my name, didn't you? Until last night, though. I saw you go running, sniveling to Oliver's arms. Now why would you do that to us, Felicity? Why would you let another man come between us? You've been so good all these years."

The man reached down and slowly, and in a sadistic attempt at tenderness, stroked his hand down Felicity's cheek, coming to rest his fingertips on her neck. Felicity struggled against her instinct to jerk away, determined not to draw the certain wrath of a man far too capable of profound violence. She closed her eyes and fought to hold back tears and revulsion as the man's hand trailed slowly down her chest to her stomach.

"You couldn't watch me work last time. I so wanted you to see." He dug his fingers into her left hip, drawing a strangled sob from Felicity. "Yes, it hurts, doesn't it?"

Felicity knew she had to stifle her reactions to the pain. It was what he wanted. She knew how quickly he could escalate. She thought of Oliver. Would he know she was missing yet? She didn't even know what time it was or how long she'd been unconscious. Was he looking for her? Would he have any idea where to look? Why hadn't she told him last night? If she had just told him… Even then, he probably wouldn't have known where to look. He had stayed off the radar for so long before now. She knew she had to keep her wits about her. Oliver would come. She just had to hold out until he did.

"He's not going to save you."

Felicity's eyes snapped open.

"No, he's just going to find your broken body, weeks from now when I've finished with you. He's going to have to live with the fact that he _failed_."

"You're wrong," Felicity bit back. "He's going to find me."

He hauled back and punched her full on in the eye. The hit made her feel disoriented and dizzy. It took her several seconds to realize the man was climbing on top of her, undoing his pants, and pushing her dress up around her waist. She struggled against her bindings, but knew there was nothing she could do yet about her confinement. She had only been conscious a few minutes and in her fear had forgotten to catalogue her surroundings like Diggle had taught her.

Thoughts tumbled through her mind: She'd made it through this before. She knew what to expect. She wouldn't be taken by surprise this time. Oliver wouldn't have to know. Even if this man did kill her, that didn't mean Oliver would find out this part. He didn't have to know.

Felicity screwed up her eyes and stared resolutely at a spot on the ceiling and focused all of her energy on making it through what came next, determined not to make a sound as her attacker forced himself into her.


	9. Chapter 9

**I wrote about 14k words today. I'm so exhausted, but I'm just super excited to get this story to you guys. I can't sleep because I'm reviewing plot lines in my head. (: Please review!**

 **TRIGGER WARNING: RAPE AND TORTURE**

* * *

Oliver couldn't breathe. He could hear Diggle shouting at him to calm down, but he couldn't. Not after watching what that monster had just done to Felicity. His Felicity. How could anyone want to hurt something as good as her? As perfect and loyal as her? Oliver slammed to his hands and knees and wretched. There was nothing to come up except water and bile. He stayed there on his hands and knees, convulsing until his throat was raw and his arms shook under him.

"Oliver, are you okay? Come on, man." Diggle was pleading with him.

Looking up, Oliver took in Digg's face. Both of them were covered in sweat, pale, and shaking. While Oliver had been the only one to vomit, John didn't look too far behind him.

"We have to find her," Oliver bit out, spitting the last remnants of bile into the trash beside him.

"Of course, Oliver."

"I want everyone here. We have to find her," Oliver repeated, pushing himself up and returning to the bay of computers. "Call Roy and Thea and Laurel."

"Already done."

"I'll get Malcolm."

"Malcolm? Oliver, are you serious?" Diggle blurted, his face screwed into a disdainful expression.

"He's the only one besides you who can match me physically. We need everyone." Oliver muttered, not taking his eyes off the unconscious Felicity on his screen. Her assailant was out of view for the time being. "We need everyone we can get."

Oliver turned and left the basement without another word. Only half an hour later, Thea, Roy, and Laurel had all gathered under Verdant, and were being debriefed by Digg when Oliver returned with Malcolm. Laurel made to reach for Oliver, but thought better of it at the last moment as he shouldered past. Thea and Roy stared at each other.

"As I'm sure Diggle has told you, Felicity has been kidnapped," Oliver spoke evenly, without emotion, his eyes deadened and hard. "Our only mission is to find her."

"Of course, Ollie—" Thea began, but Oliver cut her off.

"We have reason to believe she's been taken by the same man who killed Katie Johnson. I don't know why Felicity's been targeted." If anyone saw through his lie, they let it slide without comment.

"How do we know she's been taken?" Malcolm cut in coolly.

Oliver looked directly at the Dark Archer, cutting into him with the fire in his gaze. "We have video," Oliver stated simply. The rest of the team remained silent. "A live stream from somewhere. We can't identify it without Fe—" Oliver choked on the last word.

Diggle placed a hand gently on Oliver's shoulder as Oliver gazed at the ground, struggling to contain the emotions threatening to explode from within him.

"We have to find her," Oliver repeated in a whisper.

Thea stepped forward and placed her palm against his cheek. "We're going to get her back, Ollie. We're going to find her."

Oliver made no indication that he had heard. Thea turned to the rest of the team. "Laurel, Roy, I need you out patrolling with John. I need you to find out whatever you can about this guy." She looked at Diggle hopefully to find him nodding his assent. "Dad, you stay here with me. I need your help with back tracking the IP for the feed Oliver mentioned." If Malcolm intended to protest, he hid it well. His only motion of assent was a single jerk of the head.

As they all filed away to their appropriate stations in the basement and around the city, Oliver sank into Felicity's chair and returned to the screen that he had blacked out earlier. He didn't want everyone, especially Malcolm, to see her like that. And if he was honest with himself, he wasn't sure he wanted to keep watching her torture. He would, though. Over the next few days, he rarely strayed from that work station, convincing himself that his eyes on the screen somehow kept her safe, kept her strong, kept her from breaking. He had never felt more helpless in his life.

* * *

When he had finished his assault, Felicity tried to roll onto her side, but could only shift to the right slightly. Her bindings creaked as she pulled against them, trying to curl up and find the tiniest modicum of comfort. Her attacker let out a harsh, barking laugh.

He reached down and started to undo the bindings at her feet. Felicity was so relieved that she automatically pulled her knees into her chest. When he had freed her arms, she tried to hug her shins, but he grabbed her arm and yanked.

"Oh no. Get up." Felicity whimpered, but didn't move. "I said GET UP!"

He yanked again, this time with more force, pulling her bodily from the mattress and let her fall limply to the floor. With a vice like grip on her wrist, he twisted her arm and yanked again. This time, though, his action was met with a resounding crack.

Felicity screamed. She knew he'd just broken her forearm and cut her defensive arsenal in half. Her eyes immediately filled with tears and her vision flickered from the pain, but she was jolted from the brink of unconsciousness by a sharp kick in her side.

"GET UP YOU SLUT!" Her attacker screamed, sounding increasingly deranged. But there was no way for Felicity to comply. She was too weak and in too much pain. Finally, out of frustration, he grabbed her ankles and started to drag her across the dirty floor. Felicity felt years of accumulated grit and dust scraping over her back as he pulled her towards a door across the room. She took the opportunity to survey her surroundings as best she could through the haze of dehydration and pain.

The bed was shoved into a corner below a window covered in blackout paper. There was a work sink bolted to the wall next to the bed, accompanied by a small run down stove and a set of cabinets. There was little else in the room except for two doors on the wall opposite the bed and a small corridor leading down to her left. _That has to be the exit_. Felicity catalogued that revelation and tucked it away for later use. She wasn't sure she could even stand at the moment, let alone run, so she resigned herself to be dragged the rest of the way to the second door opposite the bed.

He wrenched it open and dragged her inside the tiny washroom it revealed. Throwing a washcloth and small towel down onto the floor beside her, he lifted her onto the seat of the toilet, her head lolling as if she were a ragdoll.

"Clean yourself up. You have 15 minutes," He growled before exiting the bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

Felicity flinched, but knew this was an opportunity. Taking a deep breath to clear her head, she looked around the room. There was little to it. He'd left her a toothbrush, a travel size tube of toothpaste, and a comb. She picked up the towels he'd thrown beside her and unrolled them. They were dingy, but clean. There was a single bar of soap in the tiny shower and nothing else.

Trying to keep a hold on her despair, she slid her ruined dress from her shoulders. Taking care not to jostle her injured arm, she let it fall to the floor. Thankfully the elastic in her bra had snapped under the strain of her attacker's ministrations, making it easy to remove without moving her bad arm. Her underwear was nowhere to be found.

With a sigh, she turned on the water. She didn't expect warm water so didn't wait before stepping in. It was freezing and she had to bite back a sob as the water smacked into her tender arm and side. Steeling herself, she stood under the stream and reached for the bar of soap. Carefully, she lathered it up in her hand and began to rub it across her skin.

The soap stung in the incisions on her stomach, but she was glad of the burning. It meant perhaps the soap was cleaning them out, preventing infection. Blood poisoning would kill her faster than her assailant ever could. With no other option, she took the lather from her palm and rubbed it into her scalp. If anything, it did feel good to be getting the man off of her, even if only briefly.

Once she was relatively clean, she shut the water off and stepped from the shower. Drying off was difficult, but she tried to move quickly. Combing her hair was painful as the hair tugged on the tender parts of her scalp where he'd ripped it away when he'd taken her from her car. Sliding the scrap of her dress back on, she looked at the unused washcloth. She had no idea how much time she had left, but knew she had to hurry.

With her teeth, she ripped the cloth into several strips. A massive, dark bruise was quickly forming on her left arm where she knew the bones had snapped. As gently as she could, she took the strips and bound them on either side of the swelling, hoping to stabilize her arm as much as possible. It wasn't ideal and she knew she was putting herself at risk of an embolism, but it was the best she could do.

Just as she finished, the man yanked the door open. He glanced at her arm, but made no comment. Felicity moved without struggle back to the bed, praying he might let her sleep, even briefly. As she walked, he placed a hand on her back and traced the scars there. She heard him mutter "beautiful" from behind her before she turned and sat on the bed.

"Lie down," he said.

When Felicity didn't move, he grabbed her throat and shoved her backwards onto the mattress. "I said lie down."

Above her, his nostrils flared and his eyes were wide with rage. He dragged her farther onto the bed and quickly rebound her ankles and wrists. Felicity did her best not to react, but when he yanked her broken arm above her head, she couldn't help but cry out. He smiled at the sound.

At first Felicity thought that maybe he was done with her for now, but as he leaned back, he reached into the small drawer of the table beside the bed and withdrew a dingy scalpel. She couldn't help the tears that formed in her eyes, nor the uptick of her heartbeat. She couldn't draw a deep breath and as his hand moved towards the skin of her abdomen, she saw the edges of her vision black.

 _Please. Please let me pass out_. She begged her body to surrender to the darkness, just for now—to save her from the oncoming pain.

But her body's survival instinct was too strong and her eyes flew open as she felt the first nick. It was deep and long, the pain flaring across her stomach. The scream that left her throat couldn't have been helped, nor could the others that followed.

* * *

The next evening, Oliver was still staring at the screen. They had learned nothing so far. The dumpster where SCPD found Katie Johnson's body was between a pharmacy and a thrift store. There were no apartments anywhere near it and no other obvious space where someone could carry out the kind of torture Katie endured. Thea had done her best to back track the IP of the webcam feed, but she wasn't Felicity. She managed to find the server in Cambodia where it terminated, but other than that, she couldn't find anything worthwhile.

They'd started taking shifts watching the feed. Everyone except Malcolm sat with Felicity, at least in spirit. Oliver rarely left, eating and drinking only when Laurel and Thea shoved food and water into his hands. He watched constantly, but someone was always watching on a separate monitor with him, scanning for anything they might use to identify her attacker or where he was keeping her. The man had returned once to give Felicity a piece of bread, a bottle of water, and to let her up to use the bathroom, they assumed, as she moved off screen.

"Oliver?"

Oliver jerked around to find Roy standing a few feet behind him. _Smart_ , Oliver thought. _Roy managed to sneak up on me. The kid is learning well_.

"Sorry, Roy. Any news?"

Roy looked at the ground, ashamed. "No, I'm sorry Oliver. We're looking, I promise."

"I know you are. But if there's no news, why are you here?"

Roy glanced over at Thea who was on shift watching the feed. She took the hint and made an excuse about getting something to eat. Roy looked back at Oliver. "I thought of something while I was out. I was in the Glades trying to find some of my street contacts when I headed past a building I used to know. I used the alley as a spot to cut deals."

"What does this have to do with Felicity?" Oliver snapped. He was exhausted, running on sleep from three days ago, and almost no food. He hadn't been able to keep much down after watching what that man had done to Felicity.

Roy rushed on, "I was remembering that… That building was where I first met Felicity."

"What do you mean 'you first met'?" Oliver asked, boring into Roy with his gaze.

"I didn't truly meet her. It was more… I found her." Before Oliver could interrupt again, Roy let the entire story spill from his lips. About how he had been in the alley, cutting through after a deal, trying to avoid attention. How he had found this girl, covered in blood and dirt at the bottom of the fire escape to the old tenement housing that was now deserted. She was barely conscious and still bleeding freely from the wounds on her back. Roy told Oliver about the car he'd stolen to get her to the hospital. He'd left the car in the emergency room bay, setting off the alarm, praying they'd come and find her. It hadn't been until years later when Oliver invited Roy to join the team, that Roy learned that girl had lived.

Felicity recognized him at once, of course. He had saved her life, after all, no matter how light her head had been from blood loss. She would never forget. They had never spoken about what had happened, except for one evening they were alone in the lair together. Felicity had looked Roy straight in the eyes and whispered "thank you" with such profound sincerity Roy knew it had nothing to do with the headset he'd handed her. He had nodded and put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. That had been the only time either of them acknowledged that shared night, but it had been enough for Roy, until now.

Roy had tried to find a moment alone with her the other day when they'd first been briefed on Katie Johnson and the others. He had no idea if this was the same guy who had attacked Felicity, but he knew it had to be bringing up bad memories for her. Roy had wanted to finally break his silence on the matter and comfort her openly. He was perhaps one of the only people in the world who knew the true extent of her injuries, what she had suffered at the hands of another. Now that she was gone, he hated himself for never being there for her after her attack.

Over the past day and a half, since he had discovered Felicity's kidnapping, Roy had returned to that night over and over again. Had Felicity escaped from the same man who had left Katie Johnson under a burning pile of garbage? Could there be others? Or was this entirely unrelated? I mean, Roy had never seen Felicity's injuries. He had assumed all of the blood on the sheet she'd wrapped herself in had been from the fall from the fire escape, not the attack itself. But now? What if she had had the same monogram etched into her flesh that night he found her that now decorated Katie Johnson's corpse? What if he had missed it?

Roy turned it over and over. How could he have missed something like that? Something so important? Even if he hadn't been in the vigilante business yet, he still abhorred violence against women. The men in the Glades who thought it was funny to add a black eye to their girlfriend were the lowest form of being on the earth to Roy.

He rubbed his eyes, cradling his head in his palms. "I'm so sorry, Oliver. I should have stayed with her. I should have protected her."

Oliver stretched out a hand to rest on Roy's knee. "You did protect her. You did the best you could."

Roy took a few deep breaths before looking up at Oliver. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. It… It wasn't my secret to tell, if you know what I mean."

Oliver nodded.

"Do you think it's relevant? Do you think it's the same guy?" Roy asked.

"I know it is."


	10. Chapter 10

**This update is a little shorter, but I still think it's pretty good.  
Warnings for Torture.**

* * *

Roy's revelation had changed the nature of their search. They were now focused intently on the building where Roy had saved Felicity's life five years before. It was a run down and decrepit apartment building that Merlyn Global had built for the city about 30 years ago. The city used it as public housing, meaning it had become uninhabitable within 10 years of completion.

Apparently, as Malcolm Merlyn later informed them, Merlyn Global had cut major corners in its construction, causing it to degrade quickly. When a newly elected city engineer had inspected the building, he found that only half the number of required of foundation pillars and joists had been used in construction and ordered the building closed and demolished.

The city was reluctant to invest any money in the Glades by then, however, even if it was to tear down a building. So Merlyn Global purchased the land from the city as part of the class action settlement but then left it to rot for twenty years.

Most assumed it was vacant or only inhabited by a handful of squatters, but the Arrow team now knew better. They had a good idea that the building had two residents of great interest to them. The only problem that remained was the size of the building. It took up half of an entire city block with fifteen floors. There were almost 1500 individual units.

With so many rooms to search, the team couldn't risk barging in and knocking down doors until they located Felicity. Even if they did find her, their search would surely alert her attacker well before they reached her, giving him far too much time to finish the act. With all of this considered, they resorted to constant surveillance of the building instead. Around the clock, they waited for even the tiniest flicker of movement behind the tar papered windows and boarded doors.

As the days crawled by, however, Oliver began to become despondent. He hadn't slept in five days and only left the Foundry to stand on the sidewalk across the street from the tenement building and stare. He barely spoke to anyone around him. His only company the was grainy picture of Felicity and her glasses he kept tucked into his pocket. His only errand since her kidnapping had been to have the lens repaired and the frames cleaned. Felicity would need them when he found her.

He watched diligently through every ordeal. The man seemed to be working to complete the work he started on Felicity's back, only now he was continuing up her front. The incisions started at her left hip where his brand lay in scar tissue and extended to the center of her chest.

Six days after Oliver had received the package, he watched as the man brought what looked like a change of clothes and some medical supplies to the bed. The items seemed profoundly out of character considering the torture he had inflicted that Oliver furrowed his brow in confusion, but his intentions became clear seconds later.

Without warning, he poured the contents of a light proof bottle across Felicity's abdomen. Felicity arched off of the mattress, her mouth open in a silent scream as the unknown chemical forced its way, bubbling deep into her incisions. Her attacker then bent over her, smearing blood and peroxide over her abdomen. Based on the anguish etched into Felicity's face, Oliver could tell her attacker's fingers were burrowing into her wounds.

Oliver's hands curled into fists, fingernails biting into his skin until he was bleeding. As the man on the screen finished his torture, he undid Felicity's bindings. Oliver sat up closer to the screen.

"Come on Felicity, please. This is your chance." Oliver muttered, knowing she couldn't hear him.

But Felicity was barely conscious. She had blacked out from the pain and was only just now coming to. In her drowsy state, the man removed her tattered dress, leaving her naked. Taking a clothe, he sloppily wiped away the majority of the blood and redressed her in a plain long sleeve t-shirt. With her covered again, he refastened the rubberized chains holding her in place and removed a scalpel from the drawer beside the bed.

Oliver dropped his head into his hands, forgetting he was bleeding from his palms. He withdrew he face quickly, ashamed he had taken his eyes off Felicity for even a second, cursing silently.

"I've got to pull myself together," Oliver said looking up at the unconscious Felicity. "She needs me."

"Who are you talking to, Ollie?" Thea had snuck up behind him.

Oliver turned to face her, too exhausted to be tired, but before he could reply, Thea had recoiled.

"Ollie! What happened to your face?!"

"Wha—oh. Nothing. It's my hand, not my face," he said, showing her his palms. He stood and headed for the bathroom to wash his hands and face.

Thea followed his movements with a look of concern, turning her attention to the video feed of Felicity as Oliver closed the bathroom door. She knew she had to be strong for Oliver, but Thea had to admit she was terrified. No matter Malcolm's teachings, she couldn't master this sensation. Thea had wanted to avoid being hurt ever again, but she had been entirely caught off guard by her attachment to Felicity—an attachment that had only become clear when Felicity had been taken.

Felicity was good to her brother, and good _for_ him. She mellowed him out, kept him in check. For that, Thea was grateful. Ollie's rage without a buffer was something even she feared. He'd returned from that island profoundly changed, almost unrecognizable. If he hadn't called her Speedy upon their reunion, Thea would have insisted there was a mistake. This couldn't have been Oliver. At the time, Thea had been sure her brother truly had died when the Queen's Gambit sunk only to be replaced with the shell that returned from Lian Yu. But Felicity had brought the Oliver Thea knew back. Slowly and gently, Felicity had teased what remained of her brother from the recesses of Oliver's soul until she could finally recognize him again.

Gazing at the unconscious form of Felicity, Thea whispered, "Hold on, Felicity. Oliver needs you. He needs you to survive. Please, just hold on. We're coming."

As she watched, Felicity's assailant bent over Felicity's body. The man reached out his hand to lift the edge of her t-shirt. As he did, the inside of his wrist was briefly exposed.

Thea moved closer to the screen, unsure of what she was seeing. With a few deft keystrokes, she grabbed the image from the screen and displayed it on the neighboring screen. Zooming in on the man's wrist, she enhanced the image. When the pixels resolved themselves, Thea gasped.

There, on the pulse point of this man's wrist was a birthmark she had known since her childhood. A mark that she had teased him for relentlessly in her youth—a mark she had kissed before they'd lowered him into the ground.

"Oh my god." Thea covered her mouth, unable to believe it was true. But it was the only answer. No one else could have that mark.

As she continued to enhance the image, she heard footsteps behind her.

She spun around, thinking it was Oliver, but stopped short.

"Thea," Malcolm Merlyn said with a nod. "What are you work—" But Malcolm never finished his question as his eyes fell on the enhanced image on Thea's screen. Thea tried to hide it with her thin frame, but she was either too small or Malcolm's eyes too quick. His eyes narrowed, until with great ceremony and precision he whispered one word. "Tommy."

Before Thea could stop him or even utter a sound, Malcolm had spun on his heel and bolted from the Foundry.

"What the hell?" Laurel was nearly bowled over on the stairs by Malcolm's exit.

"Laurel! It's Tommy!" Thea shouted.

"What the hell are you talking about, Thea?" Laurel looked incredulous.

"Tommy?" Oliver had emerged from the bathroom when he heard Thea yell. "Why are we talking about Tommy, Thea? Tommy's dead."

Thea looked at Oliver and tried to calm herself. Taking a few deep breaths, she said, "I know he's dead. I was at the funeral, too. Or he's supposed to be, but look!"

She flung her arm around to point at the enlarged photo of Tommy's wrist. "I know you both would know that mark anywhere! He had it his whole life! I made fun of him almost everyday for it!"

Laurel and Oliver squinted at the screen, both looking disbelieving until Laurel took a single step forward.

Her eyes moved back and forth as she examined the birthmark from her former lover. "Oh my god, Oliver. It—it's Tommy."

"How the hell can it be Tommy, Laurel?!" Oliver yelled, growing increasingly frustrated. He knew they were all desperate to find Felicity, but this was ridiculous. "You were there when he died, too! You saw him!"

"Oliver! Even Malcolm recognized him! That's why he just bolted out of here!" Thea countered.

"Malcolm was here?" Oliver asked, looking increasingly bewildered.

"Yes! And he recognized Tommy, too! How much you wanna bet he's headed to him now? Malcolm knows you're going to kill him if you find him after what he's done to Felicity!" Thea was becoming angry. Ollie's stupidity was going to get Felicity killed! They had to move now or else goodness only knows what Malcolm will do to protect his son.

Finally, Oliver stepped forward, leaning close to the screen. For several minutes they were all silent, Laurel and Thea exchanging terrified glances as they waited for Oliver.

At last, Oliver leaned back and breathed, "T-M."


	11. Chapter 11

**I'm sorry for the delay. I've been having daily migraines so staring at screens is difficult. I hope you like this update!  
Warnings for torture.  
**

* * *

Without another word, Oliver grabbed his hood and jacket, not bothering to change into his full suit. Sprinting to the weaponry, he snatched up his bow and arrow and raced from the Foundry, leaving Thea and Laurel standing in the center of the basement, speechless.

"Call Digg, right now. Get Roy back here as fast as possible." Laurel told Thea. "We have to get to Felicity before Malcolm does. And before Oliver kills Tommy and Malcolm both." Thea looked pale, but rushed to call back Digg and Roy from their scouting.

"What are we going to do? We don't know where she is!" Thea asked of no one in particular as the com connected. When she heard the click that indicated Roy and Digg had turned on their com links, she nearly screamed into the mouthpiece. "Roy! Diggle! Get back here now! Oliver's gone after Felicity! Tommy has her and Malcolm is going after them!"

If either Roy or Diggle had questions, they remained silent. Thea switched off her com as they indicated they'd heard her and were headed back. Laurel and Thea stared at each other in disbelief. Both had known Tommy since their childhoods. Tommy had stepped in for both of them when Oliver had disappeared and taken care of them both. He had been decent and kind to them in Oliver's absence. In each of their minds, the faces of all of his victims flashed before them, ending with Felicity's prone figure branded into their vision. How could he possibly be responsible for this much brutality and suffering?

* * *

As Thea clicked off the coms, Diggle asked, "Roy? Still there?"

"Yeah, man. I'm still here." Roy responded. He was still reeling from Thea's revelations. Tommy? Seriously? He'd never known the guy, but it just seemed so improbable. Hadn't he been crushed by a building or something?

"I know you know that this isn't Felicity's first go around with Tommy." Diggles voice came in Roy's ear.

"How—"

"I saw the way you were staring at her today. It's the same damn way I was staring at her." Diggle paused. "We both want to protect her, right?"

"Yeah, of course, Digg. What—"

"If either of us gets a shot, we're going to take it. Agreed? No more of this 'Team Arrow doesn't kill people anymore' garbage. Tonight, if we get a shot, we're pulling the trigger."

Roy paused. He hadn't taken a life since killing the police officer during Slade Wilson's onslaught on Starling and Roy's time under the influence of Mirakuru. Was he really prepared to take a life again? But then he remembered the Felicity he had found broken and bleeding at the bottom of the fire escape, and the Felicity he had grown to love like a sister of the past two years. She had opened her heart to him, given him guidance even Oliver couldn't give, about right and wrong and love and devotion. She had touched his life in a way Oliver never could. Oliver had made him a better fighter, a better vigilante. But, much like Thea, Felicity had made Roy a better human being.

"If you don't kill him, I will," Roy ground out finally as he raced back to the Foundry.

"I may have to fight you for the privilege," Digg finished before turning off the link.

John knew this would be a fight like no other. There were too many emotions bound up in it. No one was going to have a clear head. Well, Digg was determined to go in with a clear objective if no one else was going to. Oliver, Laurel, and Thea would be caught up in the revelation that Tommy was still alive. That bastard Malcolm had probably known all along, the conniving slime. Roy was someone he felt he would probably be able to count on, considering his history with Felicity. Digg didn't know the details, but Roy's expression the other morning was enough for him. Roy was young and inexperienced, though. He'd proven himself on the street, but Digg didn't trust the kid would keep his head once he saw Felicity. He'd known too many guys Roy's age that were great soldiers but lost it watching women and children die in the desert.

Hell, Digg wasn't sure he'd be able to keep his head, but his mission was clear. He was going to kill that son of a bitch and get Felicity the hell out of that tenement building and to a damn hospital. Then, for the rest of her life, he was going to protect her, and he was going to make it up to her that she'd been taken on his watch. That would be something he'd never forgive himself for and he'd spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to her.

* * *

Tommy's latest carving session and the burning chemical bath had returned a kind of clarity to Felicity's mind. The pain was so consistent now that her thoughts had reordered themselves and a plan was rapidly taking shape in her head. As he finished perfect the curve with his scalpel, Felicity looked up into his face.

"Please," Felicity whispered, sounding weak and fragile. "Please, can I use the bathroom?" She tried to look as innocent as possible, knowing if Tommy had the slightest hint of her intentions, he'd probably kill her.

He stared at her for a second before dropping his blade onto the bedside table. Quickly, he undid her bindings, feet first, then her hands before climbing off of her.

Felicity clutched her broken arm to her chest and sat up, sliding to the edge of the bed. She tried to keep her movements weak and slow so that Tommy wouldn't suspect her strength had returned, at least in part. As her feet touched the ground, he reached for her upper arm to drag her upwards, but with a swift movement, Felicity flung herself towards the table and the scalpel beside her.

Her right hand landed squarely on the handle of the scalpel. In a single fluid movement, she swung her arm around, throwing her body weight behind the swipe, not caring what part of Tommy she connected with. Her hand quickly met resistance, and praying it was Tommy, she put all of her strength behind the blow. As her head followed the arc of her hand, she saw the scalpel blade slicing cleanly throw Tommy's eyebrow, down his eye and cheek, all the way to his chin.

Tommy howled in agony, hands flying to his face. "YOU BITCH!"

With one hand, he grabbed Felicity's wrist and smashed it into the corner of the bedside table causing the scalpel to clatter to the floor. She screamed and slid to the floor, crawling as fast as she could. She made it to the window, hoping against hope that somehow she would be able to signal for help through it, but Tommy was on her again.

Blood pouring down his face, his ruined eye clouded in the socket, Tommy placed both hands around Felicity's throat, drawing her up and slamming her against the window.

"You stupid, stupid girl. You're going to pay for that!" He screamed in her face.

Summoning the last of her strength, Felicity spit the blood in her mouth onto his face. "Now you're not the only one with a scar," she choked through his strangle hold.

Tommy's hands tightened around her neck. He hauled her forward and slammed her back into the window, shattering several of the panes letting the outside light pour through into the room. Felicity's vision was going black again, spots appearing before her as she struggled to breath around Tommy's hands. His grip tightened, closing her airway entirely and Felicity knew that this was the end.

 _I'm so sorry, Oliver. I tried. Please forgive me. I didn't mean for it to end like this_. She thought desperately as she felt her lungs burn away the last of her air.

"TOMMY! STOP!"

Tommy whipped his head around, snarling at the intruder. He was going to finish this, no matter who had come to stop him. He was not prepared, however, to see his father was barreling towards him.

"STOP TOMMY! OLIVER IS COMING! HE'S COMING FOR HER!"

"I'd like to see him try," Tommy snarled turning back to Felicity, but Malcolm was already upon him, prying his fingers away from her throat. Tommy finally relented and dropped Felicity to the ground. "Why are you here?"

"We have to leave, now. Oliver knows you're alive. There's no time." Malcolm Merlyn yanked his son towards the door, but Tommy resisted. "Come on, Tommy!"

Malcolm sounded desperate. Tommy looked between his father and the girl on the floor with his remaining eye. Making his decision, he hauled back and kicked Felicity twice in the chest and stomach before spitting onto her body.

"This isn't over, bitch."

With that, Tommy turned and raced behind his father from the building. He knew he would always have another opportunity to finish his work so long as Felicity were alive. He could always get to her if he wanted. Patience was key. He had waited five years. He could wait a little longer to finish the final piece.

Yet for Felicity, the only thing that flashed through the darkness of her mind as she felt the life leaving her body were Malcolm's words. _Oliver's coming_.


	12. Chapter 12

Oliver was standing outside of the tenement building, staring up at into its black windows when the smash of glass caught his attention. There, on the top floor, several panes shattered and catapulted towards the pavement. His head snapped in the direction of the sound. It was the only movement they'd seen or heard in the entire building in days. That had to be where Felicity was. He counted the windows. Five over from the left, two windows per apartment. Third apartment, fifteenth floor.

Digging his phone from his pocket, Oliver called Diggle.

"Oliver, where the hell are you?" Diggle's voice said in his ear.

"Top floor, third apartment facing the street. Hurry." Oliver hung up, knowing John would immediately understand his message. He couldn't wait for backup, though. He had to get Felicity out now.

Kicking in the rotted front door to the tenement, Oliver barreled for the stairwell. The interior of the building was decrepit, smelling of decay and mold—like years of neglect. His feet crunched over the debris from the past lives of the building. Water dripped somewhere in the bowels of the building. Slamming the metal fire door to the stairwell open, he bounded up the steps. That window breaking hadn't been an accident. They were the result of some kind of struggle, which meant Felicity was in imminent danger. The sound of the struggle may even cover his approach if he was lucky, but he wasn't going to waste time on stealth. Not when Felicity's life hung in the balance. The noise he made would make no difference now.

Thirty flights later, Oliver emerged at the far side of the building from the apartment he was looking for. He squinted into the gloomy corridor trying to discern any flicker of movement. In the shadows, he saw two figures barrel out of a room down the hall and sprint away from him. He assumed it had to be Tommy and Malcolm. Both were several inches taller than Felicity and Malcolm had had a head start. Oliver hadn't expected to beat Malcolm here.

He briefly considered chasing them. The Arrow would have sprinted to the right, headed them off before the reached the stairwell at the other corner of the building. He may have thrown on the hood and green jacket, but he wore no mask tonight. Felicity's life was of greater importance than any questions or anger he may have needed resolved in that moment. No, tonight he was Oliver Queen.

He bounded down the dingy hallway, counting the doors until he could see the end of the corridor. There: third from the end. The door stood ajar.

"Felicity! I'm here! Where are you?!" Oliver called as he entered the apartment.

He heard a faint rustle and the tinkle of shifting broken glass. As he rounded the corner he saw her. There, lying under the broken window, limbs pushed out at odd angles, sunlight pouring onto her twisted body, was Felicity.

"Oliver," she croaked, unable to open her eyes or move towards him. "Oliver, please." She whispered. She tried to shift her arm to reach towards him but she couldn't feel her fingers.

In a second, Oliver was crouched over her. "Felicity, it's me. You're safe now. Please stay awake, Felicity. Listen to my voice. Just stay with me."

Oliver was frantic, he checked her pulse on her neck, noticing the handprint shaped bruises forming around her larynx. It was thready and weak, but her heart beat was there. His eyes moved down the rest of her body taking in her injuries. Her legs were scabbed and bruised and he could tell at least one of her arms was broken. It was swollen and varying shades of purple and green. He lifted her shirt and nearly vomited. There on her stomach were the same precise incisions he'd seen carved into her on the screen in the lair, except these were open and oozing blood. One bled with the same rhythm as her pulse. Several patches of skin were spongy and discolored, dark veins flowing away from the infected areas.

He'd known they'd be there, but the incisions extended up farther until they were only six inches from her shoulder. Her chest was bruised and caved slightly. He was horrified when he felt her breathing. It was shallow and one lung expanded while the other collapsed, like she was breathing in reverse. It reminded him of a fish taken from the water, unable to draw breath. Something was horribly wrong. Felicity's breathing came in stuttering, rasping bursts, like she was able to push air out, but not take any in.

"Oh God, please Felicity. Hold on. The others are coming. We're going to get you out of here." Oliver felt his face twist with agony, unable to contain the pain bubbling up inside.

Felicity tried to open her eyes, but only one opened, the other having swollen shut. She looked at him and smiled even though it caused every nerve in her face to flare with pain.

"I knew you'd save me, Oliver." She whispered, struggling to hold the image of his face in her vision. "I knew you'd come for me." Her eye fluttered shut and her breathing stuttered.

"Felicity! No! Please, God. Stay with me, Felicity. You can't leave me here without you. I love you for God's sake!" Oliver sobbed, lowering his head to her chest. She couldn't leave him here like this. Not in this place. Only days before, if he had just told her how much he loved her, how he'd always loved her, they could have had time. But instead, it was going to end here, on a dirty floor, strewn with broken glass and her blood.

He took one gasping, stuttering breath to calm himself so he could listen to the sounds of her chest. In his right ear, he heard a rasping, gurgling sound accompanied by a slow _pat-pat, pat-pat,_ that was so quiet he struggled to hear it even in the silence of the tenement. She was breathing, but barely. Her heart sounded like it was several floors below, its faint flutter all that tied Felicity's broken body to life, to him.

Moments later, he heard the crashing of footsteps and Digg and Roy barreled down the hallway and into the room. Both men froze at the sight that assaulted them in the apartment.

There was blood everywhere. So much blood that you couldn't believe it had come from one person, dead or alive. The mattress seemed the point of origin with a blood pool staining the center that was at least three feet in diameter. Rubberized chains hung from the head and foot of the bed, skin and blood clumped to the loops meant for her hands. A table lay smashed beside it, surgical tools scattered from the drawer. A scalpel, dirty with grey matter, was flung into a pool of light streaming in from the smashed window. And then there was Felicity, crumpled beneath the shattered window, a blood pool slowly seeping onto the linoleum, and Oliver clinging to her limp body.

"NO!" Diggle screamed, slamming to his knees. "No!"

It was this sound that snapped Oliver to attention. He had never heard John so distraught. The sound that had come from him was that of an animal, wild and full of untold pain and torment. That single word taught Oliver more about John Diggle than their years of friendship ever had—about the kind of love John was capable of. As he turned, Oliver saw Diggle and Roy for the first time.

Roy's face was stark white, dressed as Arsenal. Under his hood, his eyes were wide with shock and terror, and the rest of his body shook where he stood. Diggle was crumpling to the floor, staring at Felicity.

"She can't be. SHE CAN'T BE." Diggle was almost keening with sorrow like Oliver had never heard.

"John, she's alive, but barely. We have to get her out of here. We have to get her to the hospital." Oliver took command.

The moment Oliver said Felicity was still breathing, John shot forward, extracting a blanket from under his arm. In this proximity, he could hear the faint gurgling in her chest that was all the tethered her to life. It sounded like the death rattle. As tenderly as if he were handling his daughter Sarah, Diggle wrapped Felicity in the wool.

"Give your gear to Roy, Oliver."

At first Oliver was confused, but he realized John was trying to preserve the Arrow's anonymity. He quickly shrugged from the hood and jacket and handed them to Roy who was still pale and speechless.

"Take this back to the lair then meet us at the hospital." Turning to Diggle, he said, "How are we getting to the hospital?"

"Laurel called her father. He's going to escort us. Now move!"

Oliver scooped Felicity into his arms and sprinted for the stairwell. He was thankful for his impeccable balance as he took the stairs three at a time, bursting onto the sidewalk to find Diggle's car parked on the street next to Detective Lance's unmarked cruiser.

"Oliver Queen! What the hell—" Lance began.

"Detective, we have to get to the hospital. Let's go!" Oliver shouted not pausing as he bolted for Diggle's car and slid into the back seat with Felicity.

As the detective caught sight of Felicity's bruised and swollen face, he hastened to comply with Oliver's demand. He had expected the Arrow, not Oliver Queen, but at the moment, all he cared about was Felicity.

Lance slammed his car into gear and smashed the switch for his lights and sirens. Praying Oliver's bodyguard could keep up, Lance's thoughts glued themselves to Felicity. Had she even been breathing? The only way he had even recognized her was by the flash of bright, blonde hair, and even that was clotted with dirt and blood. Her face was almost unrecognizable under the swelling and gore. Even her throat had looked crushed. Quentin Lance was not a religious man, but in that moment he looked to the sky ahead.

"If you're up there, you're a real son of a bitch, you know that? She's one of the good ones, dammit! You better make sure she gets through this, or else I'm coming for ya'. I don't know how, but I'll find a way," Lance rambled. Then, to himself, "Then I'm going to kill the bastard that did this to her."

The image of her broken body flashed through his mind again, and he gunned it and reached frantically for his radio.

"Control, control: This is Detective Lance. I need you to clear a path for me from Peach Street in the Glades to Starling General. Escorting a black Chrysler, license Alpha Echo Charlie 1991, carrying victim of assault. Patient critical."

"This is control: Information received. We have two units heading to you now to join the escort. Traffic has been informed."

Detective Lance slammed the radio back into his receiver and pushed hard on the gas.

"Felicity, please. Just hang on, honey. We're gonna take care of you," Lance whispered, tears gathering in his eyes. They needed a miracle for this girl, and if there were ever someone who deserved a miracle, it was Felicity. The women she'd help start new lives, the criminals she'd helped put behind bars, the life she had lived. All of these added up to the extraordinary human being cradled in Oliver Queen's lap in the car behind, struggling to breathe through her crushed windpipe.

It was late in the afternoon, and Detective Quentin Lance prayed the streets would be clear.


	13. Chapter 13

**Okay friends, I am deeply sorry that this update took so long. I've been very sick and very stressed. But this one is a little longer for you. 3 I hope you enjoy it. Please review if you have time.**

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Diggle had to physically restrain Oliver looping his arms into Oliver's at the elbow when Oliver tried to force his way into the trauma bay of Starling General. John had to give the nurse credit. She wasn't an inch over five feet, but she stood her ground repeating her message four times at the top of her lungs until Oliver finally heard and complied.

"Sir, you need to calm down or else I will have to call security to have you escorted out. You need to stay out here and let the doctors work. If you go in there, you will get in the way and only cause her more harm." The nurse gave him a stern look.

Oliver blinked. He was used to nurses being placating, but this one had obviously got the read of him quickly, knowing that the only way through the haze of his concern and rage was through Felicity. He nodded and was surprised to feel John Diggle holding him back.

"We calmed down now?" Diggle said from behind him.

Relaxing slightly, Oliver waited as Diggle extricated his arms and turned to face his bodyguard.

"We need something to tell Lance," Oliver said, wanting to put off the topic of the woman lying, bleeding in the bay behind him.

"Arrow contacted you to pick up Felicity so he could chase her attacker. Short, sweet, and simple," Diggle offered.

Oliver nodded and moved to the line of chairs on the opposite wall, his mind latched onto Tommy's escape via his father Malcolm. He should have known Malcolm was a flight risk, but there had been no way of anticipating Tommy's involvement. If he had known from the beginning, he would have locked Malcolm in a cage and parked him several hundred miles from the nearest human.

 _Dammit, Felicity. Why didn't you tell me?_ The moment he thought it, however, several explanations for her silence presented themselves. First of all: Would he have believed her? Tommy had been dead for almost two years. Oliver had watched him struggle to breathe with a piece of rebar through his chest. Laurel had seen the body extricated from the rubble hours later. They had all stood at his graveside and watched the laden casket sink into the ground. Felicity herself had contributed a handful of dirt to the six-foot hole.

Knowing Felicity, she would have also wanted to preserve Oliver's memories of Tommy. The two of them had been like brothers, growing up together and inseparable until the sinking of the Queen's Gambit. Tommy had even stepped up in Oliver's absence, fostering Thea as best he knew how. Felicity had probably believed him dead following the Undertaking. What good would it have done for her to confess when Tommy was gone? When there was no justice to be had and her revelation would only drive a wedge into the Arrow team.

But why hadn't she spoken up the night she had shown him her scars? She must have known Tommy had returned. Oliver paused in his thoughts.

Had she known it was Tommy from the beginning, though?

As he turned this question over in his head, a memory assaulted him. A break room, the IT department of Queen Consolidated, an overturned trashcan, and Felicity. Tommy had said he was just making a pass at her. Oliver had seen it a hundred times before. Sure, Tommy had crossed a line maybe, but had he really recognized Felicity from the night he tortured her? He closed his eyes and recalled clearly the moment he had interrupted them.

 _"I never thought I'd see you again," came a voice that had to be Tommy's, but it wasn't a tone he'd ever heard from his best friend before. It was almost predatory._

 _Oliver heard the faint clack of heels on the floor and then an echoing crash as what he assumed to be a trash can fell over._

 _"Leave me alone." Felicity sounded terrified._

 _"Oh, leave you alone? Really? Hmm. I'm not sure I can."_

 _Oliver risked a peak through the window of the door and what he saw revolted him. Felicity was pinned against the far wall, Tommy pressed hard up against her back. He had his head buried in her neck and his hand running up and down her back._

 _"I can still feel them. Can you?" He grunted into her neck as he pushed his crotch hard against her._

 _Felicity let out a strangled sound that sounded like a sob. Oliver knew she wasn't enjoying this and while he'd never felt the need to intervene with Tommy before, today he did. He wrenched the door open and called out Tommy's name._

 _Tommy pushed himself away from Felicity as if he'd been burned. Felicity was breathing heavily, but ran as soon as Tommy's weight was off of her_.

Oliver had thought her haste had been from embarrassment or fear of Oliver's retribution since he was part owner of the company. But as he replayed the memory, Oliver knew that wasn't right. Embarrassment wouldn't have turned her face white and clammy, nor would it cause tears to ripple down her face.

She had known all along that Tommy was the man who had attacked her. The "them" he could feel were the scars he'd carved into her himself.

"You idiot," Oliver muttered.

"What?" Diggle lifted his head from the wall where he'd rested it. "Who are you talking to?"

"I brought him to the lair. I let him into the club. I let him run it for God's sake. I let him into our team," Oliver put his head into his hands. "I let him near Felicity."

Diggle put a hand on Oliver's shoulder. "You didn't know, Oliver."

"Yeah, well I should have. I was so focused on taking out the people on my father's fucking list that I entirely ignored this. And it was staring me right in the face."

Oliver was furious with himself. How the hell could he have been so stupid? He wracked his brain, trying to remember if he had ever left Felicity and Tommy alone, but his memory failed him. His head was too clouded with anger. He whined with anger, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. He had to remember. He'd put Felicity in danger, for God's sake. This was his fault! How could he have let this happen to her—Felicity, that brilliant light that shone through his entire life? How the hell had he let her become the broken body lying lifeless in Trauma Bay 2?

It was at this point in Oliver's reveree when the doors to the bay slammed open and the gurney bearing Felicity was pushed quickly out the opening, surrounded by several harried looking nurses and doctors with one nurse straddling Felicity's body, holding handfuls of IV tubing, bags, and monitors.

Diggle and Oliver leapt to their feet, intending to follow, but a thin ER doctor stepped in front of them.

"What's going on? Where the hell are you taking her?" Oliver tried to push past the doctor, but John gripped his arm so hard it yanked Oliver back to himself.

"Oliver, you've got to stay calm. Felicity needs you not to get kicked out of here, remember?"

The doctor glanced between the two men. "I'm going to assume neither of you are next of kin. If you know who that is, you need to get them here as soon as possible."

Oliver started to protest, but Diggle cut across him. "For legal purposes, I have her power of attorney."

Oliver's head whipped around to stare open mouthed at his friend. The doctor, however, looked Digg up and down once and nodded before speaking.

"She's in critical condition. She's already lost about as much blood as a person can lose and she's bleeding internally. We think whoever did this to her ruptured her spleen." The doctor paused, taking a deep breath. "But her most critical issue—"

"A ruptured spleen isn't her most pressing issue?" Oliver nearly screamed his question at the doctor. Ever since he'd found her, he'd been fighting the possibility that he'd been too late. He couldn't live with himself if Felicity didn't make it because he'd been too damn slow. And now that fear threatened to overwhelm him. He sagged against the hallway wall.

"No. It's not. She has what we call a flail chest. The entire left side of her ribcage is shattered and her lung has separated from the chest wall. Basically her entire chest has collapsed in on itself. She needs emergency surgery to fix it. While we're in there, we'll remove her spleen and stop the bleeding there as well. But I need you both to understand that these surgeries are her last chance and they are extremely dangerous. We don't know what we'll find once we open her up. You both need to know there may just be too much damage." The doctor finished and looked at Diggle.

"Are you saying I need to consider end of life care?" Diggle asked without emotion.

"If she makes it through the surgery, there is still a chance she may never wake up. She sustained head trauma and is septic from the lacerations to her abdomen and torso." He paused and shifted his feet. "We're going to do everything we can."

Diggle gritted his teeth. "Thank you, doctor."

Oliver remained rooted to the spot as the ER physician jogged after Felicity's team, afraid that if he moved, he might collapse. _Felicity's a fighter. If anyone can survive this, she can._ Oliver clung to that thought with all of his might. It was the only thought he could allow to enter his mind right then, otherwise he risked crumbling to ash right there in the middle of Starling General's emergency department.

"Oliver Queen!" Oliver looked up to see Detective Lance jogging towards him from the same direction Felicity's gurney had disappeared. "Where's she going? What did the doctor say?"

Lance stopped inches from Oliver. "How bad is it?"

"Bad." Oliver choked, turning to sink back into his seat. He leaned forward to stare at his shoes, head in hands.

"Bad? What the hell does that mean?" Lance started towards him, but Diggle stepped in.

"She's going to surgery. Internal bleeding, flail chest, sepsis, to sum up. It doesn't look good." Diggle sounded close to tears, using clipped phrases, but he kept his face still.

Detective Lance rubbed a hand across his face. "Alright. Keep me updated. I've got to go back and supervise the CSI unit."

John nodded and Lance departed. Diggle sank in the chair beside Oliver, still trying to remain in control of his emotions.

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"Since when do you have Felicity's power of attorney?" Oliver was looking at him, mistrust etched across his face.

Diggle was disturbed by the mistrust he saw, but wasn't surprised. "Last year. After Slade Wilson she realized she didn't want her mother having her power of attorney, not if it meant outing you and the rest of the team. She asked me and I said yes."

Oliver opened his mouth trying to think of a retort, but he realized it was a perfectly rational legal move on Felicity's part, and of course John had accepted. John would do anything for her. He closed his mouth and looked back down at his feet.

"Is there anything else I should know?" Oliver asked, fully expecting that to be the end of today's string of revelations.

"Well, in the interest of full disclosure, I've also been giving her self defense lessons since about six months after she joined."

Oliver looked at Diggle, incredulous.

"What? She asked. I agreed. I was just happy she wanted to learn how to defend herself. She asked me not to tell you. I figured it was because she liked having me as a teacher and didn't want you cutting in." Diggle smirked slightly. "But I think she was embarrassed."

"What the hell did she have to be embarrassed about?" Oliver nearly screamed.

John leveled him with a look of disdain. "What do you think, asshat?"

Oliver froze, mouth open to argue, realizing why she'd asked for the lessons, why she'd kept it a secret, why he was sitting the Starling General ER. It all came back to one person: Tommy.

"Whole lot of good all those lessons did, though." Diggle sounded bitter and was staring at his shoes like Oliver.

"She's still alive. It did a lot of good," Oliver muttered, suddenly immensely thankful his friend and ex-bodyguard had devoted so much time to trying to keep Felicity safe. Oliver fully believed that she was alive because of what John had taught her. He'd seen the defensive wounds on her hands and arms. They were a profound testament to exactly how hard she had fought.

 _She's still fighting_ , Oliver reminded himself, placing his hands over his face.

With that, John and Oliver entered a mutual silence that stretch for long minutes as they sat vigil for Felicity. Both of their heads swarmed with every possible way they could have prevented this, how they could have saved Felicity or killed Tommy today, or even years ago. Both of them catalogued hundreds of opportunities they'd had to end the bastard's life.

In Oliver's mind ran memory after memory of Tommy. He recalled the time around when Tommy's mother died. He and his father had disappeared suddenly, returning after a few days' absence. In the short time, Tommy had changed profoundly. Being young, Oliver had assumed it was the loss of his mother and that Tommy and Malcolm had taken time to grieve together, but when Malcolm disappeared again, Oliver knew that wasn't the case. Tommy resented his father greatly for his absence for the rest of their friendship.

But the changes in Tommy were dark ones. Oliver had been in denial about how sinister they were, but now, after today's events, they took on a new light. He recalled coming upon Tommy when they were twelve and finding Tommy standing over the Queen's beloved Golden Retriever. Tommy had claimed she'd gotten wrapped up in her leash and panicked, but Oliver had always wondered.

There were other incidents. Tommy had narrowly escaped prosecution once after slipping a girl roofies at a party and locking himself in a room with her for several hours. The Merlyn family had paid out of pocket to keep her quiet.

Oliver remembered other girls now, too. Inappropriate advances on Queen Consolidated and Merlyn Global employees. Girlfriends with odd bruises and scrapes. Lots of sudden breakups and mysterious circumstances. As Oliver catalogued these events, a pattern slowly began to emerge to him, revealing Thomas Merlyn as the devil he'd seen through that webcam.

It was deep in this revere that Thea, Laurel, and Roy found them.

Thea jumped in immediately, "How is she? Oliver?"

Oliver jumped, startled from his thoughts. "In surgery," Diggle answered for him.

"Surgery?" Roy asked, sounding stricken.

"I believe I can help explain that." All five of them turned to see the same nurse who had stopped Oliver from shouldering his way into the trauma bay earlier. "Felicity has been taken into emergency surgery on the fifth floor. There is a waiting room up there that is more comfortable that this dingy place."

The nurse smiled at all of them. "I'm Jane. I'll explain everything to you upstairs."

They all followed without protest, desperate for any news of Felicity. They crowded into the elevator together and rode it to the top floor labeled "Surgery/ICU" on the directory.

Once they had all settled in the small room off the main waiting area designated "family area," the nurse Jane closed the door and faced them all.

"Now, we've been able to stop the internal bleeding. She was very lucky in that respect. Her heart wasn't pumping very hard because she was so weak so she bled much more slowly than is normal." Thea and Roy were clutching each other and Laurel had moved to Oliver's side, resting her hand on his shoulder where he sat.

"She's already had four units of whole blood, and her heart rate is close to stabilizing. Right now, however, there's too much pressure on her pericardial space. Her lung is resting on it because of the collapsed chest. The surgeons are working now to reinflate her lung and remove the rib fragments. Thankfully her trachea wasn't as damaged as we first thought. We've cleared her airway and once we finish surgery on her lung, she should be able to breathe on her own. After that, we'll have to start debridement."

"Debridement?" Thea asked, looking like she might collapse at any moment. Roy tightened his grip on her waist.

"Debridement is a process where we remove infection. It involves removing the diseased or damaged tissue and replacing it with cadaver skin in order to prevent a recurrence of infection and allow the original skin to heal. She has a lot of infected tissue on her abdomen and it's made its way into her blood stream. We're giving her high doses of antibiotics, but there's a lot her body will have to do on its own."

Oliver looked up at Jane, despair evident in every crease of his body.

Jane smiled gently at him and said, "Felicity is strong. She's not out of the woods yet, but I've seen her pull through before."

"You know Felicity?" Roy blurted out before anyone else even registered what Jane had said as she was turning to leave.

"Yes. I think you and I met her on the same night, in fact." She gave Roy a meaningful look. With a nod to him, she said, "I'd recognize that hoodie anywhere."

Before Roy could say anything, Jane was shutting the door quietly behind her leaving them all alone with the reality of Felicity's condition. They were all silent, staring at the spot where Jane had just disappeared. It had all sounded garbled and each had only heard bits and pieces. It was still unclear to all of them exactly what was happening. The quiet stretched until the weight of it became almost unbearable.

"If there's anyone I know who could make it through this, it's Felicity." Everyone was surprised to find Laurel speaking. "I know I haven't known her very long, but she's devoted to you, Oliver. If there's anyone she'll fight for, it'll be you."

Laurel crouched down in front of him and took both of his hands in hers. "Give her a reason to fight, Ollie. Give her a reason."

Her eyes were brimmed with tears. At first Oliver couldn't comprehend what Laurel was saying to him, but slowly, like waves crashing onto a beach at sunrise, it came to him. She was begging Oliver to stay strong, to not lose hope, even in the face of perhaps the greatest loss of his life. He could not leave Felicity now, not in the darkest hour. Felicity never put herself first, but she would put Oliver there. If he told her to fight, she would. If it were within her power, she would never leave Oliver behind.

Oliver cleared his throat and looked into Laurel's face. "I will."


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey guys: I really appreciate all of the reviews and messages you've sent me. I've been undergoing a few treatments the past few days that have helped a lot. Also, I've gotten back into the groove of writing so I'm really hoping to update more regularly. I wrote a lot today and I've finished through ch. 18! Just need to edit and such. I also jumped ahead a little a wrote a scene for a later chapter that had been bouncing around in my head and UGH THE FEELS. Just wait. We're all gonna be a mess by the end of this fic, me especially.**

 **The lullaby is a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.**

 **As always, please review. Love, Hannah**

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"I never thought I'd be sitting in this chair. You know I'm really not good at sitting and waiting for anything. I know you'd tell me to be patient, but you know I'm an act first, ask questions later kind of person. Or at least I was, until I met you."

Oliver reached forward and slid his hand under Felicity's. "I promise I'll pay attention from now on. I won't ever let something this big slip past me ever again."

He looked up into her face. It was still swollen, the bruises having deepened in the day since he'd carried her into the emergency room wrapped in Diggle's wool blanket. There was a small incision covered in a square of white gauze at the base of her throat where they'd removed her tracheotomy three hours ago. From beneath her hospital gown peeked the corner of a bandage that stretched from her sternum to her hip. The nurse would be due in to change it soon and to check the infection.

A monitor behind Oliver beeped steadily, the peaks and valleys of Felicity's ventricular rhythm displayed at even intervals alongside a handful of numbers indicating her blood-oxygen content and her blood pressure. There was no number there, however, to indicate her suffering. Jane had said it would be immense. The pain of infection and a flail chest often did not fit on the standard pain scale.

And that was why she hadn't opened her eyes yet. Jane had said it was the body's way of protecting itself. With a caved chest, a surgically rebroken arm, and 30% of the skin on her abdomen and torso carved away, Jane insisted it was better that she remained unconscious. They would have sedated her even if she had woken up.

This did little to comfort Oliver as he reached up to cradle Felicity's face in his palm. The others had left an hour ago, leaving both of them with some privacy. Not that they needed it. Felicity couldn't hear anything he was saying, or feel any of the gentle touches Oliver was now painting her skin with.

Oliver was surprised by his gentleness. He had never been a gentle human being, even before the island. Throughout his life, he had been one to grip too hard and crush, or not grip hard enough and let fly. He lived in extremes. It was all or nothing for him, no nuance or sliding scale. His relationships since returning from Lian Yu were brief, burning hard and fast and falling hard. His family was now shredded because of his choices, father and mother dead, sister a newly trained apprentice to an assassin. No, there was very little that was soft or gentle in his life.

Except for Felicity. She was tender and mild, but fierce and devoted. She was the sliding scale, an amalgam of traits that to him seemed irreconcilable in a person. And yet, here she was. When he'd seen only darkness inside of him, she'd brushed away the despair like leaves in the autumn and pulled forth a light he'd never known was there. She'd looked inside of him, down into the darkest recesses of his being and extracted every ounce of wonder, joy, and peace he'd never expected to encounter in himself.

She was the kind of person who could cradle a newborn kitten in her hands, tenderly and carefully, able to preserve that fragile life, but then also have the gall to stab Slade Wilson in the neck with a syringe while trapped by Wilson's strength. Oliver had always been in awe of her. The emotions roiling within him had been threatening to overwhelm his mind ever since he had first handed her a bullet-ridden laptop in the Queen Consolidated IT department.

As Oliver withdrew his hand from Felicity's cheek, his finger hooked her oxygen tubing slightly and pulled the cannula from her nose. Standing, he leaned over her, gently adjusting the tubing so that the oxygen flowed again into her lungs. He cupped both sides of her face as gently as he could, aware of the cracked bone beside her eye.

Even with the shades of bruising, swelling, and abrasions, she looked so peaceful. The pain that had wracked her body when he'd first held her in his arms 24 hours before was gone, at least for the time being. Leaning forward, Oliver let his forehead barely graze her own.

"Thank you for not leaving me behind," Oliver whispered holding the two of them still for several moments.

As he lowered himself back into the chair beside Felicity's bed, he noticed Jane standing silently in the doorway.

"I know she can't hear me," Oliver said quietly, feeling self conscious.

"The jury's out on that one. Some research suggests coma patients can hear some of what's going on around them." Oliver flinched at the word coma. Jane looked sympathetic. "In any case, it certainly can't hurt."

Jane gave him a sad smile before moving to Felicity's side. She checked the IV running into Felicity's central line on her neck and hung a new bag of antibiotics.

"Has the doctor said anything else?" Oliver knew that there wouldn't be any news since an hour ago when he'd last asked, but the silence felt like a weighted blanket on the room.

"No. But I need to change her bandages, dear. I'm afraid, since you're not family, I can't allow you to stay. Privacy rules and all that. I'm very sorry." Jane genuinely did look sorry. She knew that since Oliver had been allowed to return to Felicity's side when she'd left surgery six hours ago, he had not left her.

"Why don't you go down to the cafeteria. I can tell you haven't eaten in several days. Check with the nurses' station. They have vouchers I think." She smiled at him kindly. "I promise I won't leave her until you get back. It'll take me at least half an hour."

Oliver thought briefly about protesting. If it had been any other nurse besides Jane, he would have refused to leave, but she had won over his entire team in only about three minutes of conversation, himself included. Somehow, in Team Arrow's darkest hour, Jane had parted the storm of fear and terror to calm them all. Oliver had thought several times since meeting her that Jane had certainly chosen the perfect profession. The comfort she brought was immeasurable. Felicity knew her, and Oliver was inclined to trusts her.

With a silent nod, Oliver stood, wiping his palms on his jeans. He leaned forward and kissed Felicity's unbruised temple.

He whispered, "I'll be back soon. Don't go anywhere."

As he departed, Jane followed him with her eyes before turning back to Felicity with a smile. "You've got one of the good ones now, huh? It's like I told you last time. The right man will love every part of you."

Jane slowly unbuttoned the sleeves to Felicity's gown and folded it down. She worked slowly and carefully. At Jane's suggestion, the attending surgeon had called in their plastic surgeon to assist in the debridement of the infection on Felicity's chest and stomach. The plastic surgeon had used tiny delicate stitches and the utmost care to slowly piece what remained of her healthy skin back together. If the hospital was careful with its bandaging and other care, it was quite possible they could limit to a great degree the scarring from her ordeal.

Carefully applying the antibacterial lotion to the skin, Jane then replaced the bandage across most of Felicity's torso. She leaned back and looked into her patient's face for a moment and couldn't help the shuddering sob that rose in her throat.

In Jane's mind, Felicity Smoak was the last person on earth who deserved this kind of cruelty. Even in her days at the hospital five years ago, when she was still learning how to smile and face the world again, Felicity had touched every nurse and doctor she encountered. She'd learned who had kids or pets, who loved to paint or which nurse had just had a grandchild. Everyday she would ask about so and so's son and how his science fair had gone, or the charge nurse's garden and how it was surviving with the over abundance of rain.

Yes, Felicity had reached outside of herself, even in the midst of the worst days of her life, to touch those around her.

"You're an incredible woman, Felicity. And you deserve an incredible man." Jane leaned forward to whisper in Felicity's ear, "Please don't make him wait too long. He's not the only one who wants to see those blue eyes."

Leaning back, Jane reached down and began redoing the rest of the bandages on Felicity's body. As she worked, she hummed a lullaby her mother had once taught her before she'd died early in Jane's childhood. Drawing a deep breath, she began to sing.

 _"I shot an arrow into the air,  
It fell to earth, I knew no where;  
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight  
Could not follow it in its flight._

 _I breathed a song into the air,  
It fell to earth, I knew not where;  
For who has sight so keen and strong,  
That it can follow the flight of song?_

 _Long, long afterward, in an oak  
I found the arrow, still unbroken;  
And the song, from beginning to end,  
I found again in the heart of a friend."_

Oliver stood, his back to the wall beside the door in the hallway. He hadn't even considered going down to the cafeteria several floors below. The idea of being that far away from Felicity ever again made his gut twist into tight knots. And now, as he smiled, eyes closed, listening to Nurse Jane sing to Felicity, he was glad he had stayed put. He was glad he'd made the decision to never leave.


	15. Chapter 15

**I'm posting this update now because there's a possibility I may be headed to the hospital again and wanted to get it posted before that happens. If it does, there will probably be a delay in updating. I'll do my best to keep up though. I hope you like this chapter!  
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He traced his fingers gently over her wrists. The skin was heavily cut and blistered, the skin peeled back in layers. The bruises extended from halfway up her hands to the middle of her forearms. Some of the blisters had popped, leaving behind blank, whitish scabs, while others were still full of fluid, bubbling on the surface of the skin. They made it look as though she were frozen in the midst of boiling from the inside out. He took her right hand in his and contemplated the wounds.

"God damn, girl," Diggle whispered, gently stroking the small amount of unmarked skin on the back of Felicity's hand. "You put up one hell of a fight."

Even though he had been there in the tenement building, the extent of Felicity's wounds turned his stomach. He'd been to war, watched his comrades be blown apart by IEDs, limbs separated, bodies mangled. Hell, he'd seen women be abused even. But Felicity's broken form, tiny in the huge hospital bed, was the most traumatizing sight John had ever witnessed. Whatever had done this to her could not possibly be human. Nothing with a soul was capable of this kind of violence.

Without thinking, he folded Felicity's blankets down to examine her legs. He regretted his actions immediately. Her legs were mottled with bruises, the deepest covering the insides of her thighs up to and under her hospital gown. They were deep and of varying ages and colors. There was no mistaking their origin.

Diggle dropped the blanket and stared down at his feet, attempting to control the rage swirling in his core. Felicity was still unresponsive. She hadn't even moved her eyes since Oliver had found her in the Glades three days ago. The doctors were concerned. After a CT scan, they found no evidence of damage to her brain besides the moderate concussion she'd received from the blows to her face. There was no reason for her to remain in a coma.

John knew better. Her body was protecting her, not just from the pain of a broken arm and shattered chest. Felicity's mind kept her asleep to protect her from the pain of what Thomas Merlyn did to her in that apartment for almost a week. Her body was giving itself time to heal the visible wounds before she had to try to heal the ones inside her—the wounds to her being. That would be the true battle.

He'd fought that battle before and nothing would stop him now from helping her scale that mountain. He threaded his fingers through hers as gently as he could and looked up into her swollen and battered face.

"I've got you now, girl. I've got you," Diggle said and he brought her hand to his cheek. "He's never going to touch you again. I swear on my life, Felicity. He will _never_ lay a finger on you so long as you live."

A single tear slid down John's cheek and came to rest on Felicity's knuckle. He'd failed her. For all of his conjecture, Tommy had still gotten her. He'd taken her straight from her car on her way home, even with most of the team zeroed in on her safety.

"It's not your fault, John." Oliver was standing in the doorway to Felicity's room, watching the other man.

Diggle looked up at him, unsurprised, "Yeah? If it's not mine, who the hell should I blame?"

"I don't know." Oliver walked slowly to the other side of Felicity's bed and placed a hand on the other man's shoulder and stared down at her. "Mine, probably. I was the last one to see her, after all. And I didn't go after her. I could've chased after her and protected her, but I didn't."

Both men were silent and stared at Felicity's broken form before them. One arm was propped up in a metal cage screwed into the bones of her arm in an attempt to get them to heal without crippling her. They'd put her central line into her neck, unable to start an IV in either of her arms with the amount of bruising, blistering, and skin loss.

Her face was still swollen, but the bruises were starting to deepen as they developed further. They could still clearly see the shape of Tommy's hands clasped around her throat.

Nurse Jane had washed her hair the second night Felicity had been in the hospital. Thea brought her Felicity's shampoo from home, thinking maybe a familiar smell would be better than the bleach of the hospital and the metallic odor of blood.

She still smelled like blood, though. There was little to do about it. No matter how many times the nurses tried to clean her up with sponge baths and their tender care, they still hadn't managed to remove the last vestiges of the filth from the tenement building.

No one from the team had been back yet. According to Laurel, her father was supervising the investigation into the incident. They'd collected DNA from the scalpel and matched one donor to Felicity. The other was unknown, but none of them doubted who it was.

Tommy and Malcolm Merlyn had slunk back underground and off of Team Arrow's radar. Thea, Laurel, and Roy had devoted all of their waking moments since finding Felicity to tracking the pair, but to no avail. Thea froze what assets she could to try to force her father to emerge, but the resources Thea had control over were only a drop in the ocean for Malcolm. He had connections across the globe and could have escaped to any corner he chose. No one besides Team Arrow knew he or Tommy were even alive.

To be quite honest, though, no one could focus on much besides Felicity. Even with the three at the lair, Diggle was still texting them hourly to update them, even with nothing to update.

Roy came to see her once, but had stood in the doorway, unable to bring himself to enter the room. Oliver had stayed in his seat, resting his face against his two intertwined hands. He'd looked at Roy and nodded, but Roy gave no indication he had seen. He was staring with an unreadable expression at Felicity. For minutes, Roy neither spoke nor moved. Finally, he clenched his jaw and his nostrils flared. He balled his hands into fists and spun on his heel. Since then he'd worked silently in the lair, responding to Thea and Laurel with short, monosyllabic answers, focusing intently on the maps before him. Even Thea hadn't been unable to coax him into relaxing for a moment. But, no one had truly been able to relax. Oliver hadn't left the hospital and John spent 16 hours a day in the ICU.

Oliver glanced up from Felicity's prone body at the screen displaying her vitals. He gazed at it for a moment, comforted by the steady rhythm shown there, until he noticed that her oxygen saturation had ticked down from 98 to 97. It was a small change, normal range even, but she was on 90% oxygen. She should be holding steady. Then, 97 became 96, then 95, 94, 93, until the number plummeted and the screen began to wail the alarm.

As the numbers fell, Oliver spun on his heel to see Felicity's body arched away from the mattress, convulsing. Diggle shot forward to smash the call button, but the ICU team was already rushing towards the room. Shouldering past John and Oliver, they started shouting orders at one another. Several minutes passed, several drugs injected, and lots more shouting, and Felicity was still not breathing. She now had an oxygen mask and the attending physician was calling for an intubation tray.

A few seconds later, a nurse was using a bag to breath for Felicity, and the team was unplugging her from all of her IVs and monitors. Before Oliver or Diggle could ask what was happening, Felicity was out the door and out of sight, but they both knew she'd disappeared into the surgical ward.

Diggle and Oliver looked at each other, teeth gritted and hands clenched. This was what helplessness felt like.

Nobody could or would tell them what was going on. In all likelihood, none of them knew anyway. The doctors probably hadn't even known when they'd rushed her to surgery, but that didn't stop Oliver and Diggle. They badgered every nurse and doctor they saw until one lost their head and screamed at them to wait in Felicity's room. Someone would come get them when they knew something.

It took hours. Oliver sat, head in hands, in the chair that had been beside Felicity's bed. Diggle paced in the space, staring down at the mess of packaging and discarded medical supplies the crash team had used. Neither of them thought to call anyone, too wrapped up in the terror of not knowing what had just happened. So when Thea arrived carrying food and a change of clothes for both men, she nearly screamed at the scene that confronted her.

"Oliver! John! Where is she?" Thea rushed forward, dropping her bags to the ground beside Oliver, shaking him by the shoulders. "Where did they take her?!"

"Surgery," Oliver choked, not looking up from his hands.

"Why? Why did she need surgery?" Thea was crying, terrified, whipping her head back and forth between the two.

"We don't know," Diggle said from across the room, still pacing.

Thea was speechless, trying to take in the scene. Felicity had been recovering. What could happen now? She'd survived, hadn't she? They'd made it in time. Oliver had saved her!

Without another word, Thea stormed from the room, off to interrogate the nurses like Oliver and Diggle had. Thea was charming, however, and within ten minutes she had an answer about Felicity's whereabouts.

Returning to the room, she addressed the two distraught men. "She had a pulmonary embolism. A clot broke loose, probably from her arm, and lodged in her good lung and cut off oxygen to the rest of her body."

Oliver looked up, wide-eyed, the fear carved deep into his face. He couldn't speak, afraid to know any of the answers, any of the possibilities. Diggle had stopped pacing and was staring resolutely at the remaining packaging from Felicity's intubation kit. No one knew what to say. All they could do was wait.

Eventually Oliver took up pacing and Diggle assumed his position by the doorway, leaning against the wall. Thea sat down in the chair. The food and clothes lay forgotten beside her.

No one spoke to them for hours, leaving them to their silent vigil. After the sun had disappeared below the horizon, Detective Lance came barreling into the room.

"They just told me. Have you heard anything?" Lance was breathing hard like he'd sprinted from the precinct.

"No, we don't know anything yet," Thea said quietly, her voice quavering.

Lance looked as though he were about to interrogate Thea further, but Oliver stepped in front of his sister and leveled a glare at the detective. Lance turned and left the room, presumably to find another nurse to interrogate. His success was limited as he returned after only a few moments and took up a spot on the wall opposite Diggle, staring at his shoes, arms folded. No one said anything about his presence, too worried to take much notice.

Around 11 pm, a nurse popped her head in and announced Felicity was out of surgery, but scampered away before any of the room's occupants could drag her through a litany of harsh questions. Oliver was seriously considering chasing after her when a tall, slight man with grey hair entered wearing a white lab coat.

Finally, a doctor.

"My name is Dr. Hallman," he said, nodding at them. When no one replied, he pressed on. "I'm the surgeon who just operated on Felicity Smoak. Are you all family?"

"As good as," Diggle grunted.

If Dr. Hallman had any qualms with Diggle's response, he kept them to himself. He nodded and continued, "Ms. Smoak had what we call a pulmonary embolism. A clot broke off from the break in her arm and travelled up her brachial artery into her lungs. It lodged there, cutting off oxygen to her body. We did the best we could, but her brain was deprived of oxygen for several minutes. We've removed the clot and repaired the lung. Her vitals are strong, considering, but we won't know the extent of the damage until—if—she wakes up."

Thea was crying again, hands pressed to her face, fingers digging into her cheeks. Detective Lance looked clammy and on the verge of fainting and Diggle was standing straight, looking at the doctor like he was planning several very painful ways of removing his kneecaps. Oliver, however, was standing, hands limp at his sides, shoulders hunched. As the others in the room watched, they started to shake.

Big, heavy tears began to roll down Oliver's face and splashed on the tile of the room. Thea pushed herself from her chair and rushed to wrapped her arms around Oliver, pulling him to her and cradling his head in her palm. Finally, Oliver let go. All of the pain and horror of the past week crashed down upon him and he stumbled. The desolation he'd felt when Felicity didn't wake up after her first round of surgeries, the revulsion he'd felt when he'd found her crumpled and discarded, the pain of seeing every injury on her tiny body and knowing the torment she'd undertaken, only to now be told that yes, in fact, he probably was too late. It was too much for him to bear.

His body caved, knees buckling under the weight of this revelation. Thea was ready, however, and slowly lowered them kneeling to the floor and allowed her brother to sob uncontrollably into her shoulder. There were no words of comfort she could give. She was as helpless as the rest of them.

Dr. Hallman turned to Lance and Diggle and quietly explained the rest of Felicity's situation. "The next 24 hours are crucial. If she doesn't wake up within the week, I will strongly recommend making end of life decisions. The possibility of ever waking falls off dramatically after 7 days. She's already spent almost 2 in a coma. She has five days before we will have to have another discussion."

Lance and Diggle nodded and Dr. Hallman turned and left, leaving the four alone.

Oliver was still sobbing into Thea. "I failed her. I failed her!" He screamed, fisting the back of Thea's sweater, unable to control the despair coursing through him. "I couldn't save her… I couldn't… I couldn't protect her."

Thea rubbed soothing circles with her palm into Oliver's back, but his shuddering sobs refused to relent. What comfort could Thea give in the face of Dr. Hallman's statements? What hope was there? All she could do was hold onto him for dear life while desolation washed through the room.


	16. Chapter 16

**I have a beta! HUGE thank you to quiveringbunny. Seriously. This story just reached a whole new level of awesome. They've been working their little pattootie off to help me (including some 2AM emails). Major props.**

 **I worked really hard on this chapter. There are some major feels. I really hope you enjoy it. (:**

* * *

The wind was fierce, but it calmed Felicity. Her hair whipped about her face and her clothes snapped and twisted in the gale. Spreading her arms wide, she breathed deep. This was peace. This was all she wanted. Now, spread before her was the ocean, vast and powerful, disappearing into the far horizon. The waves crashed below her against the base of the cliff on whose precipice she stood and Felicity could feel each percussive note through her entire body. It shook her to the core.

She felt different. She wasn't aware of how exactly, simply as though she were suddenly waking from an endless dream. The world around her had a vividness and clarity to it that was stunning. The light was brilliant and seemed to shine from all directions, illuminating her being. The wind was ferocious, but its brutal gusts never once pressed too harshly against Felicity's body or knocked her asunder.

As she surrendered herself to the wind, she felt as though her soul was slowly lifting her from the ground. It pulled her away until only her toes brushed the grass. Closing her eyes, Felicity was glad it was over. The torment she knew she'd endured, yet could not quite recall in her tranquility, would end forever. Something, someone, was reaching down, gently tugging her from the cliff edge. She'd made her decision. It was time.

The unnamed force that beckoned to her, calling to her with love and comfort, began to pull again, helping her take the step into the open air, towards it. She knew she wouldn't fall. It was holding on to her too tightly. Someone was cradling her, protecting her from any danger her surroundings presented. Felicity smiled, ready to place her foot before her when a gust of wind carried to her a sound.

At first, Felicity could not make out what the sound contained. She considered ignoring it, carrying on into the emptiness before her, until she realized this sound wafting across the earth to her was a voice. It was a voice and it was calling out. Felicity's eyes sprang open, listening hard, trying to discern what the voice was saying.

 _Felicity!_ The voice screamed.

It sounded frantic, as if Felicity were in mortal peril. Felicity was confused. There was nothing to threaten her here. The brutal simplicity rendered her current surroundings profoundly peaceful, and she knew only more peace awaited her once she took that step from the cliff edge. She heard the scream again, but this time something within her let out a gasp of recognition. From the depths her mind, an image of a man emerged: tall, blue-eyed, beautiful. She knew him from somewhere. He was important. He was the most important thing in the world. Felicity couldn't say how she knew, but that was what her being told her.

This man was _him_. The one. The be-all and end-all of everything for her. Felicity fought with her mind, digging as deeply as she could, trying to find who this man was.

He called to her again, _Felicity._ It was louder, closer, clearer now, and somehow this cry shattered a wall she hadn't even realized was within her. Her mind flooded with images: the man and a bullet-riddled laptop; a basement and an archer's hood; a cramped and dirty apartment; a broken window and a sharp pain; the man bent over her, yelling to her from across the void.

Felicity gasped at the barrage of sensations within her.

"Oliver."

The moment she spoke his name, the bonds suspending her in the air vanished. Whatever had been cradling her in this ethereal space let go the instant the love of this man took over. She stumbled, trying to regain her footing, but to no avail. With nothing to hold to any longer, the nothingness beyond the cliff took her. Falling forwards, she careened downwards.

"Oliver!" She screamed one last time as she flew.

A split second later, she hit the icy darkness of the water, disappearing amongst the waves slamming against the rocks.

* * *

The only thing she was aware of was that she existed. There was nothing else, just her existence that floated through her disembodied mind. Everything was peaceful and perfectly still. She couldn't even recall her name. There was only her.

Perhaps besides existence, however, there was also a pervading sense of warmth and comfort.

As she focused on this warmth, her mind felt a gentle beckoning, tugging on her consciousness, if you could call it that, softly echoing through her. Without a formed thought, she followed the quiet voice flowing through her mind. The closer she came to the sound, the more it slipped away from her. She tried to reach but discovered she couldn't quite locate her hands.

She stilled again, frustrated, but she heard the voice—it was definitely a voice—speaking again. She couldn't make out what it was saying except for her name, "Felicity," every so often. The other words were garbled in her ears.

 _Wait, I have ears?_ Yes, she had ears, so she must have a face, and if she had arms and hands, then she must have a body they attached to. She was more than disembodied thought. As if someone were slowly winding the film of her life onto an antique spool, images, thoughts, and emotions began to flow through her mind. At first they had a hazy quality, as if they belonged to someone else, but they quickly resolved into razor sharp memories, giving her a sudden definition to her self.

The memories continued to play, faster and faster, until she was able to answer the question that had been plaguing her since she'd first become aware of her own being: _Who am I?_

With one final image—a single face, tear strewn, and belonging to a hooded man—she knew without reservation who she was.

 _I am Felicity Smoak._

It was with this realization that her mind slipped to the brink of consciousness and her mind turned into a roaring furnace of pain.

She tried to move to alleviate the pain but was only met with a frustrating numbness. Her body wouldn't listen to her yet. She'd been gone too long. It didn't trust her. She wanted to cry out with fury but instead only felt the burning of tears in her eyes and their gentle slide down her cheeks.

 _Where am I?_ She struggled to speak but found she couldn't. She still wasn't awake. That must be it. Unconsciousness clung to her like a wet blanket over her nose and mouth. Panic rose in her. _What if I'm stuck here?_

But just as the thought formed, she summoned the last of her will and focused it on her eyelids. _Please, let me wake up_ , she begged them.

Finally, with her final reserves of strength, her eyelids fluttered before finally her blue eyes looked up into the light.

It was blurry and everything had an otherworldly, bright appearance. But then she felt a vice like grip on her hand and someone holding her face.

"Felicity?" the person said. "Oh God, Felicity."

Felicity closed her eyes again trying to clear the blurriness. When she opened them again, things were clearer. She moved her eyes, looking around her, and came to rest on the face she'd been thinking of from the moment she'd felt that soft call in the darkness.

"Oliver," Felicity whispered, her throat sore and jagged.

Oliver smiled, tears glistening on his face. "Felicity."

Felicity returned his smile, drinking in the sight of him. She had little time to enjoy the moment, however, as all of the pain her body had kept at bay during her coma assaulted her at once. Unable to contain it, Felicity closed her eyes again and keened. The pain was too much. There was no way she could survive this.

Somewhere in the recesses of her mind she heard a beep and moments later the shuffle of feet near her.

"She's awake, Jane. But she's in pain," Oliver was speaking again.

Another voice replied, but Felicity couldn't understand yet. The pain was starting to blind her and narrow her focus. To protect itself, her mind was burying itself deep within her again. Both of her arms burned like they'd been flayed and she found she couldn't draw even a shallow breath without excruciating pain. The skin on her torso and abdomen felt like it had been peeled away. She couldn't understand where all of the pain was coming from. What had happened?

She heard the quiet shuffle of feet again and a voice familiar from her past calling to her softly.

"Felicity? Can you hear me?"

Felicity opened her eyes again and moved them to see the face of the newcomer. "Jane." She croaked quietly.

"Yes, dear. You're in the hospital. Gave us all quite a scare there for a while, but you're safe now. I'm going to give you something for the pain, okay?" Jane smiled like Oliver had. They both looked like they were seeing someone they'd already buried.

Any other thought was obscured as whatever Jane was giving her flowed through her. She struggled to remain conscious, wanting to see Oliver's face again. Her eyes flew open and locked on his face, trying to communicate the sudden fear that gripped her. She couldn't go away again.

"Rest, Felicity," He said, still smiling that same smile, stroking her hair. "I'm not going anywhere."

 _Good,_ she thought, and surrendered herself to sleep.

* * *

Felicity had spent three more days in a coma following her second emergency surgery. Once the transport team had wheeled her back to the room in the ICU, Oliver hadn't left it. Thea and Laurel brought him food and a change of clothes, insisting he borrow the room's shower two days in. Apparently, he'd smelled disgusting, but he hadn't noticed.

No, all he had noticed for three days was any tiny flicker of possible movement from Felicity. He would stare so long at her eyes, waiting for the smallest glimmer of hope—a twitch, a flick of the eyes, anything that would show her brain was still alive, that she was still in there.

He'd talked to her as much as he could. When alone, he'd relayed his life to her with as much detail as he could. From the birthday party when he was eight and Thea had smashed his cake up in a tantrum, to his first kill on Lian Yu. He just spoke without end, hoping against hope that she would hear his voice in the darkness and find a way back to him. Laurel had told him to give Felicity a reason to fight, and this was the only way he knew how.

Diggle was in and out, mostly in, through all of it. He would bring periodic updates from the basement of Verdant, but there was little to report. Without Felicity, the rest of the team felt as though they had a limb missing. Only she would know how to find him.

When she'd first begun to fight her way to consciousness, Oliver had felt the tiniest movement in her index finger of the hand he held. At first he thought that he had moved it by accident, but then it twitched again. He'd tightened his grip around her hand, begging whatever higher power was out there that this wasn't a trick-that she was clawing her way to him.

He repeated her name as if it were a prayer, "Felicity, I'm here. It's Oliver, please. Come on, beautiful. Come back to me."

Pleading with her, he cupped her face in his palm and felt the small trickle of tears from her eyes. She'd released the tiniest moan of pain and frustration before her eyelids fluttered open, unseeing.

"Felicity, I'm here," he repeated, gazing into her glassy eyes. "Felicity. Oh God, Felicity."

Finally, the haze cleared from her vision and she gazed into his eyes again. The smile that broke across his face hurt it was so broad, flexing muscles that had gone weeks without use. She'd tried to smile but the broken bones in her face had kept her from achieving her objective. He'd seen her pain immediately and jammed the call button.

"Oliver," she whispered and the sound had pierced him to the core. That single word fed him unlike anything he'd ever known in his life. The part of him he had packed tightly away since she'd disappeared came bursting forth, flooding him with emotion. The pain, exhaustion, worry, and profound love that he'd held back assaulted him at once. There in her eyes he found what he'd been searching for since she'd disappeared. If he was honest with himself, though, he'd been searching for it for far longer.


	17. Chapter 17

"Do you know where you are?" Dr. Hallman asked.

"Starling General," Felicity replied, staring past Dr. Hallman at the wall.

"What is your name?"

"Felicity Smoak."

"Where is your place of employment?"

Felicity hesitated for a second before replying, "Palmer Technologies."

"What year is it?"

"2015."

"Who is the president?"

"Barack Obama."

"Do you know why you're here?"

Again Felicity hesitated, continuing to stare at the opposite wall. "Yes," was her barely audible reply.

Oliver's hand tensed around hers but she did not react. The doctor glanced at Oliver before proceeding.

"What is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?"

Felicity snorted so hard Dr. Hallman was worried she'd ripped her stitches. Oliver looked thoroughly confused, and that confusion didn't abate when Felicity replied to the question.

"African or European?"

Dr. Hallman smiled, glad to see a little twinkle back in her eye, and thoroughly glad she had seen _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_. Happy there was a small amount of levity between them, he pressed on.

"I need to discuss your care, Felicity, and I'm afraid I need to discuss it with you privately. Mr. Queen can wait right outside," Dr. Hallman said, gesturing gently towards the door.

Felicity nodded almost imperceptibly. Oliver looked for a moment like he was about to protest, knowing how difficult the coming conversation was going to be (and still thoroughly confused about what swallows had to do with all of this), but he didn't want to cause a confrontation in front of Felicity. He stood and bent to kiss Felicity's forehead.

As he lowered his lips to meet her skin, she flinched, eyes still trained resolutely on the wall, her good hand wrapped tightly in the scratchy hospital blanket. Oliver paused and looked away from her, his eyes closed. He stood straight and walked to the door, turning to look at Felicity, who hadn't moved, as he shut the door. As the door clicked closed, Felicity turned to Dr. Hallman for the first time.

"Is Jane here?" Her eyes had become blank and unfeeling again.

As a response, Dr. Hallman leaned forward and pressed a button behind Felicity's head.

There was a beep and then a voice: "Nurse's station, ICU."

"Yes, Jane. Dr. Hallman here in Miss Smoak's room. She'd like you to be here."

"Oh, yes of course. I'll be right there."

Dr. Hallman leaned back and looked at Felicity, who had returned to staring at the wall across from her bed. Her behavior was concerning to him. He only knew the story her wounds told, nothing from her own mouth. She'd spoken very little since she woke from her coma 12 hours ago. She seemed cognitively sound, but she'd endured something brutal. It was too early for a PTSD diagnosis, but its early stages were already manifesting in the small, blonde woman.

Two soft taps on the door announced Jane's arrival. As she entered, she smiled softly at Felicity, who had turned and much to Dr. Hallman's surprise, returned the smile. It wasn't a true grin, and it certainly wasn't happy, but there was a small flicker around the corners of Felicity's mouth and something changed in her eyes when she saw Jane. They had a history, Dr. Hallman reasoned. Perhaps her distance from Mr. Queen was due to his gender or factors he knew nothing about. The police had assured him Mr. Queen did not do this to Miss Smoak, but there was obviously a rift between them.

He was also aware that perhaps talking to him might be more difficult than the more sympathetic Jane. Jane had already been a nurse here for seven years when he started his surgical internship. The two of them maintained a close professional relationship characterized by an intense trust of the other's instincts in medicine and patient care. As a testament to that, Jane had arrived carrying a bin of IV medications to hang before they proceeded. Felicity didn't ask what the various fluids were for, just stared solemnly at the bag carousel while each was hung and connected to her beeping pump. With Jane present, however, Dr. Hallman began to feel relieved for Felicity. That tiny flicker of emotion—an emotion besides fear—that she'd shown her nurse was her best hope.

As he watched, Jane crossed to sit beside Felicity, facing her and gently disentangled her hand from the blanket. Jane patted it twice and looked into her face.

"I know I've said it before, but I'm still so glad to see those blue eyes again," Jane said, still smiling.

Felicity looked down at the hand Jane had a fast hold on. Dr. Hallman thought she was about to wrench it away, but instead Felicity pulled their joined hands closer to her.

"Are you ready, dear?" Jane asked, and with great ceremony, Felicity nodded.

Jane looked at Dr. Hallman indicating he should proceed. He drew up the stool so that he could sit on Felicity's other side, placing his clipboard aside and his reading glasses atop it at the foot of the bed.

"Miss Smoak, I do not know the specifics of your ordeal, but as your physician I have seen the aftermath and I know that it was horrific. I need to talk to you about the specifics of your injuries so that you understand your medical needs over the coming weeks and months. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Felicity nodded and looked up at Jane.

Dr. Hallman continued, "We'll start with the big stuff, okay? First, your most severe injury was what we call a flail chest. Your lung detached from your chest wall when your ribs were broken. We have surgically reconstructed your chest and reattached the lung. The healing process for this will be long, Miss Smoak. You may require additional surgeries and you may suffer some impairment."

"Impairment?" Felicity was looking at him now, her eyes flat and unexpressive.

"Yes, but it should not be major. You may find yourself short of breath more easily and with some reduced flexibility in your chest muscles. We also had to remove your spleen. Now, the spleen is something of an 'extra' organ. You can live perfectly well without it, although some viral and bacterial infections may be more severe since it helps to filter the blood."

Dr. Hallman paused to make sure she didn't have any questions. When she was silent, he said, "The next injury we need to address is your arm. It was broken in what we call a spiral fracture. A straight fracture would indicate a fall, but spiral fractures are commonly seen in victims of abuse. It can only be caused by the arm being twisted violently. Yours was broken very badly. It broke and then smashed back together. The bones began to regrow on top of each other." Dr. Hallman couldn't stop the wince that escaped him. The orthopedic surgeon, a 30-year member of the surgical ward, had nearly screamed when she'd seen the x-ray. Even Dr. Hallman, a _Medicins Sans Frontiers_ veteran, was repulsed. "We had to rebreak your arm, Miss Smoak."

He looked at her for several moments, giving her the opportunity to speak if she wished. When she remained silent, staring into her lap, he found it difficult to continue. Swallowing, he pressed on.

"You will require physical and occupational therapy to recover from both your arm and other injuries. Both of your ankles are badly sprained, but will heal without surgery, as will your other injuries.

"Miss Smoak, I know that the ordeal you endured was truly horrible, and I'm very sorry to have to speak to you about this, but as your physician, I have certain concerns I need to address."

Felicity's hand twitched in Jane's and she peered up at Dr. Hallman. Her face was pale and clammy. Dr. Hallman hated himself for what he had to say next.

"We know that you were raped, Miss Smoak."

Silence. Dr. Hallman was at a loss. She had to talk about what happened. If it wasn't right this moment, it had to be very soon. Revulsion at the mystery of her wounds rose in his throat. He rubbed his face with both hands trying to clear the images assaulting him. He'd treated women injured this way before, in the midst of his work in Rwanda following the genocide. The brutality never ceased to amaze him; that in the midst of genocide, or in the middle of Starling, a woman could sustain injuries such as these—that there were men capable of creating such wounds.

"Our OB/GYN said you will suffer no permanent damage, but you will have to abstain from any sexual activity for 10 weeks," Dr. Hallman, angered by the faintness of his voice. "Your STI panels are clear, but you will have to be tested again periodically for the next six months for Hepatitis and HIV."

She swallowed, clenching her good hand into a fist around Jane's. If it was painful to Jane, she did not show it. Because of their profession, both Jane and Dr. Hallman had an idea of the battle being waged within Felicity Smoak in that moment. The desire for control, the hope of release, and the profound torment of her experience—her own mind pitted against itself.

After several minutes' silence, Dr. Hallman started to speak again, but Felicity interrupted him in the smallest voice he'd heard in his 18 years as a physician.

"Please don't tell Oliver."

At first, Dr. Hallman wasn't sure he had heard her, but Jane was already leaning forward and embracing Felicity before he pieced the sentence together.

"No, we won't, dear. We can't. Nothing leaves this room unless you say so," Jane said, patting Felicity on the back gently.

It was this hug that finally broke the dam Felicity had constructed around herself from the moment Tommy took her. With a weak sob, the tears came, as did the story. The words tumbled from her. It was as if she no longer needed to breathe. All she needed was to rid herself of this awful series of memories, to unload the burden onto someone else.

Dr. Hallman took out a pen and paper and wrote everything he possibly could down for the police and hopefully, for the therapist Miss Smoak would agree to see. He tried not to make a sound as the events rolled from Felicity's mouth, but he and Jane could not help themselves as she described the brutal ways this man had attacked her. She never mentioned a name, but he assumed it was simply because Felicity didn't know who had attacked her, and he didn't press her for it. That she was talking so soon and so coherently about her ordeal were promising signs. Perhaps his initial assessment had been wrong.

"And then, I told him I had to use the bathroom," Felicity choked in short, clipped phrases. "When he unchained me, I grabbed his scalpel and slashed his face with it. I-I think I got his eye with it. He was so mad. I thought he was going to kill me. He was so close. He was strangling me and I couldn't see anymore. And then—"

But Felicity stopped, her entire body trembling. She couldn't tell them what had happened next, not without exposing Oliver. She wasn't even sure what happened next. How had Oliver found her? She knew it was him, because her last memory was of Oliver sprinting towards her as her vision dimmed. Malcolm had been there. He'd said Oliver was coming, but what else? She frowned, unable to bring forth any other memories.

"It's okay, dear. It's okay if you don't remember what happened after that. You're safe now," Jane said, patting her hand with tears streaming down her face. "It's going to be okay."

Felicity gave a small, reluctant smile to her nurse. No, it wasn't okay. Far from it. Tommy was still alive. He'd escaped, off with his father to some unknown location to bide his time. She knew Thomas Merlyn wouldn't rest until he'd finished the work he'd come so close to completing.

At the thought, she withdrew her hand from Jane's and placed it over the bandages on her abdomen, tracing the lines she knew he'd carved there—lines that she would carry with her for the rest of her life. The doctor hadn't mentioned them, but she was too afraid to ask what they looked like. She wasn't ready to know how deep the physical scarring was.

Jane took her motion as fatigue and suggested that she and Dr. Hallman allow her to rest. She leaned forward and hugged Felicity tenderly.

"Press your call button if you need anything, dear. I'm here all through the night," Jane whispered to her. "I'll bring you your favorite chai in the morning, okay?"

Felicity's eyes again sparkled with tears at the small act of kindness and attempt to bring a small bit of normalcy back to her life. Jane remembered how Felicity loved chai. After all these years, some things hadn't changed, even if it felt like her entire world had been blown apart. She still had Jane, and she still had chai tea.


	18. Chapter 18

**TWO CHAPTERS? IN ONE DAY? Yeesh. I must really love you guys.  
Again: major love to quiveringbunny for being the best beta.  
I hope you guys enjoy! Please review. They really help me with crafting the rest of the story!  
**

* * *

Waiting outside the room was torture for Oliver, but he kept reminding himself he had to do what was best for Felicity. The urge to protect her, however, was strong. He leaned his head back against the wall in the hallway and balled his fists, attempting to gain some semblance of control over himself, but his thoughts kept returning to the way Felicity had jerked away from him moments before. He placed his hand in his breast pocket and withdrew her glasses. He'd had them fixed when she was still held captive, but he had yet to return them. She hadn't spoken to him since she had called his name as she woke.

She was traumatized, he reminded himself, but this did little to calm his anxiety. Did she blame him for what happened? He knew that he certainly blamed himself, so he couldn't be surprised if she did as well. Oliver was convinced he'd had every opportunity to protect her, and yet, he'd taken none of them. Each pivotal moment flashed before him and he could do nothing to stop the painful tightening of each muscle in his body as rage and self-hatred coursed through him.

 _Of course she can't stand me_ , he thought. He couldn't even stand himself.

Approaching footsteps interrupted his thoughts. He opened his eyes to see Jane approaching and quickly returned Felicity's glasses to his pocket. She smiled and entered Felicity's room without a word. Oliver was relieved to see her. Dr. Hallman seemed a decent man, but Jane was a safe haven. There was something within her that was much like Felicity. Both women were capable of reaching straight for a person's soul and giving immense comfort in times of distress. Oliver was grateful such a person could find Felicity's being and wrap it warmly in love.

Alone again with his own recent memories, Oliver's mind flashed unbidden through the violence of several days past. He'd fought to keep his head in the present, but the gore would not be controlled. Vivid images of Felicity's broken body, bathed in the sunlight streaming through a broken window, her chest breathing in reverse, the gurgling death rattle that was her breathing, John Diggle falling to his knees, screaming at the sight of her. It was all too much.

Oliver dug the heels of his palms into his eyes hard, trying to blot out the pictures swarming through his mind's eye. The ten minutes in the back of Digg's car, Felicity's gurgling breath slowly becoming weaker and softer as the car sped through downtown Starling. His arms ached from holding her so tightly, as if he gripped hard enough, he could keep her in this world with him. If his fists maintained their grip, she wouldn't die. The mockery of her breathing was telling him differently.

"Go faster for fuck's sake, Digg!"

Digg's only response was to lower his foot on the gas pedal and inch closer to Detective Lance's bumper. Oliver looked back down into Felicity's ravaged face and smoothed her mess of hair out of her eyes. One was swollen shut and the other was splattered with gore, but it was still her. Oliver would have recognized her anywhere, even after what that animal had done to her. She was still warm, and she still exuded something that was so… Felicity.

With a strangled sob, Oliver lowered his forehead to hers. "I love you, Felicity Smoak. I swear, if you just stay here, stay here with me, I won't ever let anyone hurt you again. Please fight, Felicity. I can't do this without you."

The tears flowed freely down his cheeks as he hugged Felicity's limp body to him and sobbed. He couldn't stop the stream of whispered pleadings as they sped through the city.

When they'd finally reached the ER entrance, Diggle had passed Detective Lance on the access road and swung into the portico, using the handbrake to position the car directly in front of the automatic doors. Oliver gathered Felicity to him as quickly as possible without hurting her and John wrenched the door open. Lance had sprinted to them and was already through the doors, screaming for a gurney and flashing his badge when Oliver jogged inside holding Felicity. The gurgling was fainter than ever and Oliver was surprised to hear himself now pleading with the nurses and doctors who took her from him.

"Please, don't let her die." The trauma team wheeled her into the bay. "Please."

A noise jerked Oliver back to the present and the memory cleared from before his eyes to reveal the tiny form of Nurse Jane before him.

"Anybody in there?" Jane said, but with an unusual seriousness.

Oliver shook himself and leaned away from the wall to look at her.

"Good. You and I need to have a talk." She paused and eyed him. "Actually more like, I'll talk, you'll listen."

"I seem to be doing a lot of that lately," Oliver bit out, suddenly on edge, feeling the strain of the day land on his body.

Jane sighed, her stance softening, "I'm sorry, Oliver. I know this has been hard on you, too. Please, will you have a cup of coffee with me?"

"What about Felicity?" Oliver leaned forward to peer into Felicity's room but could only make out a sliver of her bed.

"She's asleep, and I imagine she will be for awhile. I gave her her pain meds before I left. And we can talk in the nurse's break room down the hall. We'll only be three doors away if she wakes up." Jane gave him a small smile of encouragement.

Oliver thought for a minute about refusing and going back to Felicity's side, but then he remembered the way she'd flinched when he'd attempted to show her affection. Perhaps he wasn't the best thing for her right now. With a sigh, he waved his hand in the direction of the break room and allowed Jane to lead the way.

Once inside the small room, Jane closed the door with a soft click and walked to the kitchenette counter to poor herself a cup of coffee in a doubled paper cup. She turned to Oliver and asked how he took it.

"Black," Oliver said, taking a seat in a flimsy, plastic chair at a round table. It groaned rather loudly under his weight.

Jane placed his coffee in front of him and took the opposite chair, stirring hers with gentle swirls. For several moments, she stared into her cup before taking a deep breath.

Oliver placed both hands around his cup to warm them and then looked up into Jane's face. He was surprised to find her eyes glistening with tears. He opened his mouth a few times, struggling to find a word or two of comfort for her, but he was at a loss. If anything, he was bizarrely comforted by her emotions.

"I'm sorry," Jane said hurriedly wiping away her tears. "It's been a long week."

She sounded deeply careworn. The nurse he'd encountered the first night in the ER who had stared him down from a foot below was not the woman that sat with him now. Jane's face looked older, the lines deeper, and the laugh lines seemed to have faded, like years of previous joy were slipping away in the face of new suffering. The bags under her eyes were deep purple and looked wrong on the face of such an experienced nurse, but as Oliver considered them he began to realize that Jane had been the only nurse in and out of Felicity's room recently, at least since her embolism. She had done everything from sponge baths and bed changes, to changing Felicity's medications and fluids. With a dawning comprehension, Oliver saw that he hadn't been the only one at Felicity's side for almost a week.

This revelation inspired a new feeling in Oliver, one he hadn't felt in a very long time: gratefulness. Removing one hand from his paper cup of coffee, he placed his warm palm on Jane's wrist. Jane looked up into his face and they stared each other for a moment. Silently, they both considered their commonality: Felicity.

"I can't tell you what she said, Oliver," Jane said finally, breaking the silence.

"I know. I wouldn't want you to anyway," Oliver said withdrawing his hand and placing it back around his cup. He took a sip. "She needs to tell me on her own."

"I'm glad you understand that." Jane went back to watching her coffee swirl. "You're going to need to step up for her."

Jane drank a gulp of coffee and look again at Oliver, finding a confused expression gracing his face.

"This is going to be a hard road, Oliver. She's been through… This is the worst case of trauma I've ever seen that was caused by another human, and I used to be a trauma nurse in The Glades when the vigilante was still killing people."

Oliver believed her. After everything he'd seen on Lian Yu, all of the violence he'd perpetrated himself, witnessed in his city, even when Slade Wilson had stabbed his mother through the heart, none of it compared to what he'd seen on the floor of that tenement building. Every time he closed his eyes now he saw Felicity's flail chest, breathing in reverse and heard the gurgle and rattle of her breathing. He was sure that as long as he lived, he would never be able to forget that moment.

"You can't bail." Oliver's attention snapped back to the present and to what Jane was saying. "You look like a good man, Mr. Queen, but even the best of men bolt when times are hard."

Jane fiddled with her bare ring finger absently. "She's going to need months of treatment for her physical wounds, and she will very likely need more surgeries in the coming years. But what she's been through, twice now, is where the true recovery has to happen."

"I know," Oliver said.

Jane peered at him sternly for a second. "Yes, I figured you would. But just because you've dealt with your issues, doesn't mean she's going to deal with them the same way. There's going to be night terrors, screaming, pain, fights, panic attacks, phobias, flashbacks, you name it. Hell, maybe even suicide attempts."

Oliver balked at the last statement, but the look on Jane's face kept him silent. She looked positively fierce now. "I swear to God, Oliver Queen, if you fuck this up for her, you're going to have me to answer to. You're not going to be able to 'save' her or some romantic novel bullshit. She's got to do that for herself. But you're going to be there, you hear me? You're going to do whatever she asks of you. You're going to open jars and pick up food. You're going to clean, change her sheets, do her laundry, help her get dressed, draw baths for her. You'll get her take out whenever she wants it, and you're going to make sure she gets to every single physical therapy appointment, every follow up with her surgeons and doctors, and every therapist session. And most importantly, you're going to listen whenever she is ready to talk. I don't care if the house is on fire. If she says to you that she wants to talk to you about what happened, you're going to drop the fire extinguisher and come running, you hear me?"

Speechless, Oliver nodded stupidly.

"Good. Now, this is my phone number—" Jane slid a piece of paper across the table to him "—You're going to call me if you need help. And I mean it. Call me."

Oliver looked at the precious piece of paper, emotion welling up in his chest. He folded it carefully and placed it in his shirt pocket.

"I know we're not going to be able to do this without you, Jane."

"No, I imagine not." Jane smiled a genuine smile. With that, she stood, dumped her tepid coffee into the sink and tossed the cup into the trash. "You can stay in here as long as you need, but I'm late for rounds."

As Jane turned to leave, Oliver stood and touched her shoulder. She turned to face him again.

"Thank you," he said, and on impulse, leaned in to hug her.

Jane returned the hug and squeezed him tightly. When they pulled away from each other, both had tears gracing the edges of their eyes.


End file.
